


Blurred Lines

by thegoodmarble



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Love, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-04-30 04:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14489220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodmarble/pseuds/thegoodmarble
Summary: Diane Lockhart wasn’t the type of woman who randomly called people at three in the morning, sober or no. *Please note the warnings attached. This story contains the subject of rape and assault.NOTE: Story has been on unofficial hiatus since 2018 but will be updated soon. Author accidentally deleted the whole work in progress (including the ending that was already finished) on her DropBox so this story is back on chapter by chapter basis in terms of progress.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the warning attached to the story.  
> This story will contain the subject of rape and assault.  
> This is also an alternate universe where the ages of the characters have been adjusted to fit the narrative.
> 
> The creator also understands that this isn't a subject that everyone will like. If the material is too triggering or upsetting, please steer clear.

The loud ringing of his mobile phone was enough to jar Will Gardner awake at three in the morning on a weeknight. Groaning, he threw the pillow that was over his head to the floor and groped blindly on his bedside table for the offending device. He squinted his eyes against the brightness on the screen of his phone, frowning when he noted the time and who was calling at such an ungodly hour.

“Diane?”

“Will? It’s me...”

He rolled onto his back, rubbing his hand over his face, “Yeah?”

“I...I don’t...Will, I think I’m...” the string of words didn’t form a coherent thought and that was enough to get his attention. He checked his phone again, making sure he got the caller right. 

“What’s going on?” he frowned, unaccustomed to hearing his usually eloquent partner stumble over words. A small smirk appeared on his face in the darkness, “Are you drunk?”

“No, I...I don’t know,” she mumbled, “Will...I don’t know how...I don’t...”

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” he sat up, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“I think so...I don’t _know_ ,” she took a deep breath audibly, “I don’t feel...I think I’m going to be sick.”

“So take the day off tomorrow— _today_ ,” he said, deciding to kill her if this was some kind of drunk dialing thing gone wrong. “It’s three in the morning.”

If she was drunk off her ass in the middle of Chicago on a school night and needed to be collected, he was going to hold this over her head for a very long time. Will enjoyed it very much when he was on the better end of these situations and with someone like Diane, this was a very rare opportunity. She always lorded it over him being the mature one.

“No, Will, I...I don’t know where...” she groaned, “God, Will...can you come get me?”

“What? Where?” he pushed the sheets that had been tangled around his body. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“No, no,” she whispered, “Please, Will? I’m...I’m at the Foxhole...I think...maybe the parking lot?”

“You’re not sure?” he frowned, “What’s going on, Diane?”

“ _I don’t know_ ,” her voice had an unusual tremble to it. “Will, please?”

“Okay, okay,” he said, heading to his closet and grabbing a pair of jeans he’d yet to throw in the hamper and slipped them over his boxers. “I’ll be right over...if you’re at the Foxhole then I should be there soon.” He slipped on a pair of sneakers, “Are you alone?”

“I think so...” she let out a breath and he thought he heard a sob which was unusual if this was his partner. She was decidedly not the emotional kind, drunk or not. “Will, I don’t feel well.”

“Have you been drinking?” he asked, slipping on a brown leather jacket over the white shirt he’d worn to bed.

“I was...?” she didn’t sound so sure. “I can’t...I don’t...?”

“Diane, focus.”

He couldn’t help the sudden feeling of dread that washed over him. She’s had him on the phone for a couple of minutes now and he still didn’t have a straight answer from her. He grabbed his wallet and his keys, his phone still pressed to his ear. If he could help it, he wouldn’t disconnect the call. 

Diane Lockhart wasn’t the type of woman who randomly called people at three in the morning, sober or no. And she wasn’t the type to get drunk on a weeknight when she knows full and well they would be needed at work the following morning. She was the adult between them and this was a long running joke they had. What was worrying Will the most was that Diane didn’t sound like herself and as annoyed as he was by the disturbance, his worry was overtaking his need for sleep. Between the two of them, he could readily admit to being the one more prone to making late night requests to be collected at some bar or tavern in the city. 

There were alarm bells going off in his brain and Will found himself hoping this really was just about having had too much and needing some friendly assistance. Something in his gut told him it wasn’t but his mind wasn’t ready to entertain thoughts on what else could be going on.

“I-I went for a drink,” she finally said after a moment, “At the Foxhole? You...you took me here before, remember?”

The name rang a bell and he remembered the small bar he’d taken her to three weeks prior after a busy Friday. It had been a little too sedate for his taste, though his tastes leaned more towards sports bars, but Diane had loved it. It had a classic feel to it with the old wood and top shelf liquor the place had on offer—it was a bar, plain and simple, without too many bells and whistles and they happily celebrated a good end to a bad case. 

He nodded, pulling his front door closed behind him, “I did. You went back tonight?”

“Yeah...I,” she let out a shuddering breath that was too dreadfully clear through the line, “I remembered...I went out.”

“Alone?” he asked, punching the button to summon the elevator to his floor.

“Yes...yes, alone.”

“Okay,” he said, keeping his tone calm. “I’m gonna be on the elevator. If we get cut off, I’ll call you when I’m in the car.”

“Alright...” she seemed to whisper, “Will?”

“Yeah?” he asked just as the doors to the elevator opened.

“Please come,” there was a note of desperation in her voice that made him close his eyes—something was very, very wrong. His heart began to thunder in his chest.

“I’m coming,” he grit his teeth, “Just stay where you are. I’ll find you.”

“Okay,” she said just as the line cut off.

Standing in the elevator in silence, Will stared at his phone with his jaw clenched tightly. He contemplated making another call, clutching his keys in his hand but decided against it. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he needed to find out first before anything else. Something was wrong, that was for sure, but Will didn’t quite know what exactly was going on yet. He needed to find Diane first and he hoped to god she was right about where she was.

He jogged from the elevator to his car in the parking garage of his building, unlocking the car even before he could get to it. He called Diane back just as he started his engine, clutching his phone as he drove. 

“Will?” her voice came through clearly on loud speaker.

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” he drove faster than he normally would out of the garage, sure that he would be the only one heading out this time of night. “You in your car?”

“No...I got sick,” she confessed, “I don’t feel well.”

That was the second time she’d noted that to him, he thought grimly. He got on the road, keeping himself alert as he navigated through the mostly empty streets of the sleeping city. 

“Yeah, you told me,” Will said, “Remember?”

“I did...?” she sounded confused. “I’m...I’m next to my car.”

“Okay,” he thought for a moment, “Diane...why aren’t you in your car?”

“I was...but I just,” she sounded hesitant, “I couldn’t...I couldn’t breathe.”

“Did you have too much to drink?” he asked, “Where are your keys?”

“They’re here...” she said slowly. “I...I went out for a drink.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a sharp turn, “Okay. What’s going on? You threw up. Does your head hurt?”

“It does...it hurts,” she groaned, “I need...I need to sit...but I don’t want to get back in the car, Will...I can’t...”

She suddenly started to breathe heavily, loud enough for Will to hear. She was breathing too fast and too quick—she was beginning to hyperventilate. Will clutched at the wheel of his car, practically crushing his phone against it. His foot pressed just a little bit more against the gas pedal.

“Diane,” he tried to keep his voice soothing, “Diane, calm down...breathe slowly.”

“Will, I don’t know what’s going on,” there was a slight note of hysteria in her voice, “I can’t—I-I need to sit down. Where are you?”

“I’m almost there,” he said, taking another sharp turn. Immediately he recognized the area and resolved to keep an eye out for his destination. There were still a lot of places open but he knew for a fact that the bar he was looking for didn’t stay open past midnight. Knowing that just led to more questions for Will. If the bar closed at midnight, what the hell was she doing there at three in the morning? He was sorely tempted to ask but reconsidered. He could barely get a straight answer of her about anything—he’d have to ask when she was in a better mindset.

“Will...” she was practically whimpering. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Just sit tight, okay?” he tried not to dwell too much on the fact that one of the strongest women he’s ever worked with was having some form of breakdown on the phone with him. “Just breathe. Breathe. Are you sitting down?”

“I am...I am.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “I’m a few blocks away.”

She breathed in deeply, “Okay...”

And suddenly the line went dead. Will frowned, glancing at his phone, “Wh...Diane?” Keeping one eye on the road, he picked up his phone. The call had disconnected. 

Will shoved his foot against the gas pedal.

**o0o**

She had slid against the side of her car when she felt her knees began to shake and threaten to buckle under her weight. Her head was throbbing relentlessly as if trying to break out of her skull and she held her head in one hand while the other clutched at her stomach. Throwing up had helped make her a little better but not by much. She had dropped her phone when she couldn’t hold it up to her ear anymore, unable to keep the line going when she felt as if she was going to lose consciousness at any moment.

She was disoriented, frightened and a little in shock but knowing help was coming kept her from simply letting go and passing out in the empty parking lot. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole if it meant ending her misery.

The bright beams of a pair of headlights came out of nowhere, piercing even while she had her eyes closed. She raised her hand to her face, trying to shield her eyes from the headlights coming her way. She moaned, realizing the lights just seemed to make the throbbing in her head worst. The bile began to rise in her throat once more.

It was a familiar silver BMW that parked haphazardly right in front of her and Will got out, leaving the door open in his hurry to get to her. He looked at her with such alarm in his eyes, “Diane.”

She didn’t try to imagine how she might look, crumpled against the side of her black Cadillac next to a pool of her own vomit. She almost sobbed in relief when she saw Will make his way towards her, the look on his face enough to tell her just how bad she must look to him.

He stopped right in front of her, getting down on one knee, ignoring the vomit near the rear tire not too far away. She looked away, still holding her head in her hand, pressing the heel of her palm into her eye in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain she was in. She looked disheveled but seemed relatively intact though Will couldn’t be sure.

“What happened?” he asked, wide eyed as he took in her appearance. Her legs were folded underneath her, covered in what he was sure was now a pair of ruined sheer stockings, her skirt stretched tight just before her knees and her white silk blouse in slight disarray. 

“I don’t know,” she said in a strained voice.

He tilted his head towards her, “Diane, what happened to you?”

Will moved closer towards her, watching closely as she began to rub her temples and reached out to touch her. She was so caught up in her pain, she hadn’t seen him move and when she felt his fingers brush against her it startled her, twisting her body away from him. Her face was a mask of pain as she moved, pushing herself against the car even more. He shrank back, surprised at her reaction but he couldn’t help the barely audible gasp that came out of his mouth when he saw her face.

“Did someone hit you?”

She looked up, confused with her brows knitting together, “What?”

“Your jaw,” Will pointed, his eyes darkening, “Your jaw is black and blue, Diane.”

He reached out again only to have her tilt her head away from his hand and felt the spot he was indicating. She reached up with shaking fingers, wincing when she touched her face. She probed gently, hissing slightly as she tried to trace the tender flesh to get some idea of how big it was. She moved her mouth around, eyes shut tight and straining to remember.

“I don’t remember,” she whispered, looking at Will with clouded eyes. “Is it bruised?”

Will looked angry, “It’s bruised. What the hell happened?”

“I...” she stopped, “Will, I don’t know.”

She tried to get up, turning in place to reach for the hood of her car and started to pull herself up. She felt his hand touch her back and Diane suddenly gasped, her hold on the car slipping and promptly fell on the ground once more. She felt the skin of her knee bite painfully into the concrete.

“Don’t,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against the cool surface of her vehicle, uncaring that her face was practically next to the front left tire. Her body began to shiver and she turned, resuming her position.

“Let me help you,” he said in a low voice, “If I hurt you, just tell me. But you’re gonna need help if you want to get up.”

She covered her mouth, shaking her head slightly.

He stared at her, “Diane?”

“I think I was raped,” she said quietly, the words whispered against trembling fingers.

Will’s arm twitched and his jaw tensed. He narrowed his eyes and a myriad of emotions flashed across his face before finally it finally settled on outrage.

“ _What_?” his voice came out in a cold hiss, the word slipping through his teeth like poison. “Raped?” He swallowed harshly, “ _You think_?”

She couldn’t tell if the barely suppressed rage was directed at her.

Diane bowed her head and put her hands on her face, hiding herself from him, shoulders slumped. He reached out without thinking, wrapping a hand around her wrist, trying to get a look at her face.

“You _think_ , Diane?” he asked, his voice dangerous and his eyes dark. “What do you mean _think_? You can’t _think_ you were raped. It isn’t up for interpretation,” he growled, pulling at her wrist.

“I don’t know what happened!” she said in a high voice, panic beginning to set in. His anger was frightening her, catching at her already frayed nerves. He sounded like he was being protective but she still could not tell if he was angry at _her_.

“Did someone hit you?” he asked harshly, moving his face towards hers, “Did someone touch you without your consent?”

“I can’t remember!” she burst out, her breath catching in her throat. “I was _drunk_ , Will! I woke up in the backseat of my car,” she confessed, her body shaking. She closed her eyes, tears burning their way down her cheeks. “I was in the bar...there were a few men who hit on me,” her voice tailed off weakly. “I don’t _know_.”

“You know something,” he insisted, his hand shaking her wrist lightly though he didn’t tighten his grip. “Something happened—something is making you think you were raped!” He grit his teeth and reached up under her chin and tilted her head up, “Did someone slip you anything?”

She shook her head, “I don’t accept drinks from strangers.” She wiped at her cheek with her free hand, eyes downcast. “I...I think I passed out.” Her voice broke, looking at him with tears in her eyes. “I was drunk, Will...blind drunk.”

Diane tried to explain to him how drunk she was. She had been drinking enough to hand her keys to the bartender. She had come to the bar with the expressed intention of getting drunk off her ass. She had gone out specifically for that because she couldn’t stand being in her house and the pressures of things at work were getting to her. She hadn’t felt comfortable calling Will up to invite him to drink because it was late and he had gone home before she did that day. He’d just wrapped up a case and he was exhausted so she went out alone.

“I don’t give a shit how drunk you were,” Will grit out, looking at her intensely. “You _can’t_ consent if you were _unconscious_ , Diane. What happened? Who laid a hand on you?”

She looked away, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“I can’t even remember the bartender’s face,” she choked out. If the men who approached her that night had given any names, she wouldn’t even know where to begin trying to remember. She had nothing to give to Will and his crusade to go off and beat the shit out of whomever he thinks may be responsible for this.

His hand slipped to her knee, touching her gently.

“Don’t touch me,” she shook him off of her. 

Will drew back his hand as if he’d been burnt.

Her eyes met his, “I’m evidence.”

He was beginning to sweat despite the early morning darkness and the cold it brought with it. She was curled up within herself, shivering. The ugly bruise glowed eerily in the faint glow of the lights coming from the poles that lined the lot.

“I don’t know if it was rape,” she said hollowly. 

“Diane—”

She began shaking her head.

“—or if I want to think it was rape because if it wasn’t then I’ve just fucked some stranger,” her voice broke at that statement and she covered her mouth once more.

She swallowed, closing her eyes tightly before continuing, “I’m going to need a rape kit.”

“Tell me what happened first,” Will said, insistent.

“I told you, I don’t—”

“Now,” he growled, “Right fucking now, Diane!” He looked at her, his eyes fierce, “What do you remember?”

“Will—”

“Some motherfucker hit you in the face,” he snarled, “You can’t have consented if he hit you in the face!” He pointed at her jaw, “Unless you’re into something I don’t know about?”

Her mouth fell open, her hand drifting to her injured face. Her eyes flickered and she bit her bottom lip, looking down. Her voice was a whisper, “I wouldn’t let anyone hit me.”

Will nodded stiffly, knowing the answer even if she hadn’t given it. He knew Diane and he knew there were people who liked certain things that others wouldn’t necessarily find appealing. But he knew her. She wasn’t the type who would tolerate that kind of abuse, let alone indulge in it as some kind of kink. He’s known her for the better part of their five-year partnership running a firm together. She knew the difference between rough sex and masochism.

“I stayed a little late at the office,” she said quietly, “You’d already gone by the time I went home...” she moistened her lips, “I got home then I went out,” she hesitated, “I couldn’t stand being at home tonight.”

“So you went out to drink,” he tilted his head to the side, “you took your car.”

“Yes...I got to the bar,” she furrowed her brow, “I remember...two shots of Cuervo.”

She closed her eyes again, squeezing them tight then opened them, dejected.

“I woke up in my car,” she murmured, “I was...dizzy. Disoriented. I...I felt like I lost time. I don’t remember making it to my car...but I _know_ when I arrived the lot was full.” She bit the inside of her cheek, “I was alone when I woke up...the lot was empty...I crawled out of my car...I was _so_ dizzy so I sat down for a while...maybe half an hour? Then I called you.” Her face crumpled, “I’m sorry...I didn’t know who else to call.”

Will tried to touch her again, but then silently pulled back. She folded her body, her arms squeezing her middle as she began to breathe too fast, too much again.

“Breathe,” he said quietly, “Diane...breathe.”

He studied her, a little detached. There had to be something. If her memory was so messed up, so wiped out, what exactly made her think she had been sexually assaulted? She was distraught, sure but she wasn’t hysterical. She still had her wits about her, however frayed they may be. It didn’t make sense for her to jump right into that conclusion without reason.

“So you thought you were raped?” Will asked, “After you woke up?”

She nodded.

“Diane,” he started, a frown marring his troubled features. “Why?”

She looked at him for a moment before looking away, “When I woke up...it wasn’t exactly in a position I would consider comfortable if I was sleeping in my car.”

He closed his eyes, “What position?”

“I was in the backseat...propped up against the door,” she said, a slight tremble in her voice, “One leg hanging off the seat and my,” she hesitated, looking down, “my-my skirt was pushed up.”

He looked at her clothes once more. This was as casual a business attire she was capable of wearing. Usually they’d be paired with a blazer or a something else to add more flare to the plain white silk blouse but she’d most likely shed that layer for the trip to the bar. He noted the disheveled appearance he’d picked up on earlier and started to notice more and more than before. He reached for her blouse, ignoring her feeble attempt to ward him off and touched the collar, tugging slightly. There were buttons missing from the blouse, he realized. Her hand reached up, pushing his away and she hunched her shoulders.

“Wait,” he said, reaching for her collar once more, his frown deepening. “There’s...I need to look at something, okay?”

She stared at him dully before nodding her consent.

Will reached forward, lifting the collar to the side and felt his jaw tighten once more as the skin underneath was revealed. Diane looked at him, picking up on his reaction. He let go of her blouse, looked away and swore.

“Bite marks,” he snarled, “under your collar.”

She swallowed, wide eyed and stunned, “Bite marks?”

“Two,” he grunted, “Maybe more.”

She brought her hand to her chest, pressing her the fabric against her skin, drawing in a sharp breath.

“My...” she flinched, “My underwear...it’s missing.”

He looked up at her sharply, “Stolen?”

She closed her eyes, “I don’t know.”

That line had been said too many times for one night already and that was most likely the theme for all of this. Will clenched his fist on his bent knee, his mouth curling dangerously. He sighed harshly, wiping his knuckle against a flared nostril. He looked down, his head falling forward until his chin was nearly to his chest, “Are you hurt anywhere else?” There was a slight change in his tone, almost like a curbed edge as if he was trying to be delicate _now_. He looked straight at her, unwavering.

Her face was pale but her cheeks were flushed and the odd combination made her look sick. Her eyes were large and wet, the bruise still a prominent reminder of their situation. Her hands drifted to her her lap, legs pressed tightly together.

“I’m...sore,” she answered quietly.

He nodded stiffly upon hearing that then crouched in front of her, moving closer towards her.

“No,” she said suddenly, flinching. “Please don’t touch me.”

She was so desperate to not have him touch her, she began to attempt standing up again. She latched on a shaking hand to the tire next to her and began to push herself up. She used the better traction the tire provided and pulled her body up clumsily. She succeeded this time, her palms pressing on the hood of her car as she tried to keep herself upright. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said from his place on the ground, still crouched there, afraid if he moved he’d scare her into running off and he wasn’t too sure she’d be able to do so without falling on her face.

Her body was bent forward though she kept away from him, teetering dangerously on her high heels. The sheer stockings she had on were ripped in some places—from the incident or from sitting on the ground, Will wasn’t entirely sure.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” she said, panic rising in her voice. “Will, please. Don’t touch me.”

She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling dizzy, like her head was being shook around. Something flashed in her mind’s eye—a sound of a zipper that just seemed too loud and saw a brief flash of a leering smile.

Her eyes flew open and she gasped, nearly losing purchase on the vehicle she held herself up against. She tried to breathe, her chest suddenly feeling tight.

“Diane,” he said quietly, standing up while holding his hands up to show her he was not a threat to her.

“Take me to the hospital,” she gasped, “I need a rape kit.”

She pushed her hair back and then blanched. She suddenly bent forward, one hand on the hood of the black sedan and the other curling around her stomach. Will reached out to catch her just as she suddenly began to retch, barely missing his shoes as her body convulsed. He carefully held her by the shoulder and held her hair back. Her arm shook trying to hold herself up, sobbing as her body convulsed painfully as it struggled to expel whatever was left in her stomach.

Will swore, trying to keep his touch light while trying not to stand too close to her to avoid upsetting her. When she was done, she was left taking in ragged breaths, body spent and exhausted and she fell back against him. She had no choice but to let him catch her or she’d fall over her own vomit. She tried to keep herself upright but found she was too weak to do so alone and it left her breathing raggedly against him. He held her gingerly against him, feeling her body shaking so badly, he was beginning to worry if she was in shock.

He took his phone out and dialed quickly.

“Hello?” as usual, it didn’t seem to matter how late it was for Kalinda Sharma, she sounded just as alert as always.

“It’s me,” he said into the phone, “I need you at Northwestern Memorial.” 

“What’s going on?”

“Meet me in the ER,” he said simply. “Right now.”

“I’m on my way.”

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he turned to look at his injured partner. She had pulled herself away from him during the brief call and settled back against her car once more, holding her stomach and her body bent forward. 

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he spoke in a way that clearly said he was not leaving any room for discussion. “Where are your keys?”

“With my phone,” she muttered without looking at him, “Floor.”

Will looked down, swiping the phone and keys from the ground. He locked her car, glancing at the fresh vomit on the ground then the other one not too far away.

“Can you walk?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she nodded and did her best to straighten up.

“I’m going to walk with you,” he said, “I don’t want you to fall. I’m going to touch you, okay?”

She nodded wordlessly and finally, she allowed him to touch her. He slipped his arm around her waist and began to walk with her, pulling her off her car and moved her towards his. He briefly considered putting her in the backseat but then thought better of it. 

“You okay?” he asked as they rounded his car, him mostly keeping her up as she moved in her high heels slowly.

She nodded again and allowed herself to be deposited into the front passenger seat. It wasn’t long before Will was peeling out of the parking lot, tires screeching as he stomped on the gas once more. They sped down the roads of Chicago in the darkness of the dark early morning together, heading straight for the hospital.

Diane curled up as soon as she was settled, turning away from him. Her shoulders heaved and she was crying silently. Will kept his eyes on the road. He tried not to let it get to him, knowing he couldn’t fall apart along with her too. He was angry and he hung on to that like his life and sanity depended on it. He was angry she was hurt, angry someone had touched her, angry she had drank so much, angry that she had been so stupid, angry that this had to happen at all. 

There was no comforting hand to her shoulder or a gentle squeeze to her arm. He couldn’t. She wouldn’t let him. She didn’t want him to touch her, didn’t want him to be near her even.

And that made him angry too.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t take long for Kalinda Sharma to arrive at the hospital she had been directed to go to.

Dressed in a pair of boots and a black leather jacket, the dark haired investigator didn’t need to be assisted by staff to find her boss. On a quiet night with a relatively calm ER and a lax staff going through a shift without too much hassle, it was easy to navigate the floor without assistance. She found Will, standing with his back against the wall, not looking his best at the early hour with his unshaven face and rumpled clothing. His eyes were closed, head tilted back with his hands shoved into his pocket. He stood across from a door that was labeled _Trauma 1_.

“Will.”

His eyes snapped open and he straightened up, “Kalinda.”

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Client?”

“No,” he shook his head, “This...this isn’t a client.”

“So what is it?”

“Rape,” he said, his voice low as he moved towards her, glancing meaningfully at the closed door across.

An almost imperceptible nod, “Who?”

She watched his jaw tighten and she felt her instincts begin to rattle. He looked down for a moment before clearing his throat audibly and looked at her square in the eyes, “Diane.”

“What?” even she hadn’t been prepared for that. 

“She doesn’t remember anything.”

Her mind was still trying to wrap itself around the idea of the tall blonde counterpart at the top with Will but she kept pace with him, “Are they doing a rape kit?”

“Yes,” he jerked his head towards the closed door, “I’ve informed the nurses I’m her lawyer. They haven’t contacted the police yet.” He shook his head, “The rape kit should take a while. Kalinda...?”

“I know someone at the sex crimes unit,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “She’s good. And she’s thorough. She owes me a favor.”

Will won’t ever ask how she comes by these people who end up owing her enough to do these things without question but he is grateful each time it swings in his favor. “Please call her. They’ll send random uniforms here and I just...she’s not going to be comfortable with that.”

Kalinda nodded, taking out her orange notebook. “Where did this happen?”

“At a bar called The Foxhole,” Will answered and her pen went to work. “She called me around 3am. She was disoriented, couldn’t form a sentence properly...I found her in the parking lot. She was on the ground next to her car and she threw up before I arrived.”

“Her car is still there?”

“Yeah,” he handed her the keys, “It’s locked. There’s most likely some evidence in the backseat of the car.”

She nodded, taking the keys and slipped them in her pocket, “She doesn’t remember anything?”

“No,” Will shook his head, “I made her tell me what she could. She remembers leaving work, getting home and going out. She remembers taking a couple of shots then...nothing.”

Kalinda nodded, “She doesn’t know if she was drunk?”

“She went out to get wasted,” he ground out. “I don’t know. What I could see in the vomit...all liquid, I think.”

“I’ll call my friend,” Kalinda said, closing her notebook with her pen tucked inside. “She’ll come out here and take her statement. A rape advocate will be sent in but the kit should take about...five hours or so. Do you need anything?”

Will shook his head, “She’ll need clothes to...to change into.”

“I’ll take care of it,” she nodded, “She threw up?”

“Twice,” he nodded, “Next to her car.”

“My friend’s name is Miranda Paccininni,” Kalinda said, slipping her notebook into the pocket of her coat. “I’ll send her your way and I’ll look into the Foxhole.”

“Thanks, K,” Will said, collapsing against the wall with a sigh, closing his eyes.

“Will?”

“Did you call him?” she asked, watching him closely.

“Who?” he asked, opening his eyes again to look at her.

She inclined her head, giving him a look.

“I didn’t,” he answered dully. “I called you. I’m trying to keep it inhouse.”

“Once Miranda hears about it, it won’t be inhouse anymore, Will,” she pointed out. “She will be discreet but she will have people she’ll need to report to. He will hear about this.”

“ _This_ is hard enough without adding him into all of this,” he gritted out. “I won’t call him unless she asks me to.”

“And you think that will stop him from coming here?” she asked, “He’s works in the same building as Miranda, Will. He’s gonna hear about this.”

“Then let him,” he snarled, “She called _me_ , Kalinda. Doesn’t that say something? I don’t know what happened but she called me. Not him. I’m not going to stress her out more than she already is.”

“As long as you know what you’re doing,” she cautioned though the look on her face told him this wasn’t his best decision at the moment. “Do you think she called you because she’s afraid he’ll think she...” Her voice trailed off.

“She’s what?” Will asked, his voice dangerously low.

The change in his tone didn’t bother her one bit, but she was aware of how far Will can go when it came to protecting someone he cared for. He was at his most dangerous that way and she knew it well enough. Will was in lockdown mode and he was going to rally whatever troop he could to protect his injured partner. It wouldn’t be long before he would need to shield her from the wolves at the office too. But Will was definitely in a more primal mindset at the moment, lashing at anything and anyone who could cause Diane further harm.

Knowing she could hit a nerve, she pressed on with her inquiry. One of them had to do their job, “That she’s covering up cheating on him by saying it was rape?”

“She wouldn’t do that,” he practically snarled, “She’s got a bruise on her face, a cut in the back of her head and she’s got no memory of the last three hours, Kalinda!”

“I _know_ that,” she replied calmly, “But it isn’t unheard of.”

He glared at her, “It isn’t but that’s not the case here. She was beaten, Kalinda. I don’t know if she fought back but the bastard had to smack her around to get her down. This isn’t some cheap drunken encounter.”

“Did she know that when she called you?” 

Will stopped, staring at her for a moment. “She was confused.”

Kalinda gave him a look before nodding slowly and taking a step back, “I’ll call Miranda.”

“Thanks,” he said, collapsing against the wall again, rubbing his face with one hand while the other was planted against his hip. “Kalinda...”

“Yeah?” she almost turned to leave.

“This was rape, K.”

She breathed in deeply, catching the heaviness in his statement. “I know. We’ll get him.”

**o0o**

Somewhere in the distance something fell to the ground with a loud metallic clang.

Diane Lockhart flinched and she hated her herself for it. Her arms were folded across her chest and she refused to lie down on the white bed that they’d placed her on. She felt nauseous and her head still hurt. It had been a long endless set of two hours for the rape kit filled with forms that needed to be signed, evidence that were slowly and carefully bagged which included her clothes. She watched dully as the nurse triple checked the forms she had filled out while questioning her and the evidence she had collected.

She had heard of the process of taking a rape kit and had even been privy to a few of them but not once did she ever think she would be needing one herself. Diane shut her eyes, looking away from the nurse and the kit she was putting together. The nurse had been thorough and professional, asking her questions in a detached manner that made the whole process seem more bearable. 

There were a lot of questions but not many answers from Diane. She had started by asking for her consent if they could perform a rape kit, reminding her that once the seal on the kit was broken, there was no turning back. Diane had consented to that. Then the questions followed—was she beaten? Was she drunk? Was she on drugs? Was there oral sex? She stuttered out what answers she could though for most of the questions concerning the _attack_ , she had little to give. 

Apart from the questions, she was thankful the nurse didn’t seem inclined to engage her in conversation.

The nurse took her blood and urine and then spread out a white paper blanket on the floor for her to strip on. It was to catch whatever debris was on her body and clothes, she explained. By debris, she knew the woman meant evidence. She stood still as the nurse methodically ran a comb through her hair while holding a white piece of paper underneath to catch anything that might fall through the strands. Once done, she was then quietly told to take her clothes off. Diane ignored the bile that rose in her throat then as she slowly and carefully stripped. She withstood the nurse taking a tongue depressor to her body, scraping here and there and swabbing every bruise, cut and the bite mark she could find. She made a quick work of scraping whatever she could find under her long manicured red nails, catching them in a white piece of paper which she folded and sealed in a bag.

Her clothes were replaced by a white paper gown, scratchy against her skin.

They took photos though for those Diane shut her eyes tightly. She felt like a spectacle, like a specimen that was being slowly taken apart and it took everything in her not to scream.

A female doctor around her age had come in after and she had kind eyes and gentle hands. She quietly asked Diane to lie down so she could begin the examination and continue with gathering evidence from her body. She performed her task quickly and thoroughly, asking here and there if she was alright or comfortable. Diane shut her eyes for most of that examination, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from screaming or crying, she wasn’t sure. The doctor asked the nurse for the rape advocate, a little upset that there wasn’t one in the room yet. 

The doctor then advised against the prophylactic antivirals for HIV, telling her honestly she doesn’t recommend them. The side effects were horribly nasty and the pills were not effective. Diane decided against taking them and wondered if she damned herself with that decision.

Once the doctor was had gone, the nurse stayed and asked if she consented to the blood tests and the medication they were about to give her. Diane signed her initials on the form and swallowed the pills for chlamydia and gonorrhea from a white paper cup. She was asked if she would need the emergency contraceptive pill—which opened up a new flood of horror in her head and she quietly refused, telling the woman she was on birth control. By then, she was numb to the questions.

Not long after, the rape advocate arrived. She was somewhat her age as well, dressed in jeans and a gray sweater. She tried to hold Diane’s hand but she moved it away. She wasn’t upset with another stranger in the room—she just didn’t want to be touched. But the woman was kind and understanding and while there was pity in the way she was looking at her, strangely enough it didn’t elicit a negative reaction in Diane as she would have expected of herself. She wondered briefly if she wasn’t so adverse to the pity because she felt she was someone to be pitied.

The advocate had brought a sandwich with her and a can of ginger ale. She offered them kindly, telling her it was lettuce, tomato and turkey if she’d like. Diane politely refused, staying on the bed with her arms crossed over her chest.

She wanted to go home.

**o0o**

Eventually, two people come into the room followed by Will.

She could hear him arguing how he should be in the room with her as her listed emergency contact and her lawyer. Diane was grateful for that. She has been surrounded by strangers ever since she’s been brought into what she was now beginning to think as her white cell. The two strangers are obviously from law enforcement. One was a female redhead, tall and pretty in black, dressed in a turtle neck, slacks, a long coat and a pair of boots. Behind her, a man she introduced as her partner, stood back in a black bomber jacket and jeans.

The male was arguing with Will, telling him he wasn’t needed and to wait outside, they kept their voices low but they were not hard to miss and she could hear the venom in her partner’s voice as he spat at the man. The woman spoke with the advocate, telling her she needed to leave the room or else her confidentiality agreement with Diane will be compromised. When she leaves, she assures Diane she won’t be far and shoots the woman a baleful look.

But the two men in the room were still locking horns, their voices were low but the constant talking was beginning to make Diane’s head throb again. She reached up, rubbing her temples and closed her eyes, “I’d like Will Gardner to stay in the room please.”

Will and the detective stopped, looking at her for a moment before the lawyer shot him a dark look and moved further into the room, standing just behind Diane leaning against the wall.

“Fine but he’s not part of this interview,” the male replied, obviously displeased. He was brisk with a harsh, clipped Chicago accent that told he was every inch a Windy city cop.

“I’m sorry, Miss Lockhart,” the woman said, kind and without the accent. “I’m Detective Miranda Paccininni. This is my partner Detective Damian Boyle. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded.

“Can you start with what you did yesterday?” she asked mildly. Behind her, her partner had his notebook out along with a pen. “You went to work?”

“I went to work, same as any other day,” Diane said slowly. “I finished late. I didn’t bring work home with me...I thought about sleeping but I couldn’t stay still at home. I decided to go out.”

“What time did you get home?”

Diane thought for a moment, remembering her housekeeper was still there when she arrived. She told her not to prepare dinner for her and it had been dark already. “Around seven in the evening. I sent my housekeeper home. It was too late for her to still be there.”

“And then you left your house?”

“No,” she paused, “I...I didn’t go out until eight thirty, I think.”

“You didn’t eat or anything?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“Where did you go?” Miranda asked.

Diane looked blank for a moment, she splayed a palm across her stomach and glanced at Will behind her.

“Miss Lockhart?”

“The Foxhole,” she responded, turning to the detective once more.

“Did you go there alone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you go there to meet someone?”

“No,” she said quietly. “I just wanted to go out...and drink.”

“How much did you drink? Do you remember?”

“I remember two shots of tequila,” she answered honestly.

“You remember two shots but you know you had more?” the question was from Damian.

“I drank a lot,” she said dully.

“Enough to get you drunk?” he pressed.

Diane nodded.

“You don’t remember anything else you might have had? Maybe more tequila?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you know you were drunk enough to pass out?”

From behind her, Will shot a dark look at the man. He didn’t like how this was progressing.

“Come on, Miss Lockhart. You remember, what else did you drink?”

“I said I don’t know,” she ground out, looking balefully at the detective much the same way her advocate had when she’d been asked to leave.

“So _what_ do you know? And why did we get dragged here before the crack of dawn then?”

Diane flinched at the question, looking away without an answer.

“Hey!” Will growled from behind her suddenly.

“That’s enough,” Miranda said to her partner, “Diane? Can I call you by your name?”

She nodded though she avoided looking at the two officers. 

“Can you try and remember?” she asked, a lot more gentler than her partner was shooting the questions at her. “Try closing your eyes...think of any smells or taste you can remember.”

She did as she was told, silent for a moment. She could feel her heart thundering against her chest. The bar had been loud the night before. There were a lot of people, mostly women. It was ladies night at the Foxhole.

“Martini,” Diane murmured, “I had a martini.”

“So two shots of tequila and a martini,” Miranda said.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Did anyone buy you a drink?”

“No,” she closed her eyes, “I don’t accept drinks from strangers.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, “Did you take your attention away from your drink? Even for a couple minutes?”

“Not that I remember,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t there to socialize. I just...drank.”

“So, you didn’t go out to meet someone? Maybe something casual?” he asked which earned him a heated look from Will.

“ _No_ ,” Diane said sharply.

“Is it possible someone brought you a drink while you were intoxicated already?” Miranda asked carefully, shooting partner a look, silently telling him to dial it down.

Diane tilted her head to the side, thinking for a moment. 

“It’s possible,” she said slowly, “But I generally don’t accept drinks from people I don’t know...even when I’m drunk.” She shook her head, “There were mostly women there. It was ladies’ night.”

“A woman could have assaulted you too,” the male detective pointed out.

Will gritted his teeth, “Evidence shows it was a male. Move on.”

Diane’s hand drifted towards her jaw, the bruise that was in full bloom still stung. She didn’t have to ask how Will confirmed her attacker was a man. 

“I don’t remember anything,” she said softly, “I was drunk...I’ve been drunk before. But I usually remember after I wake up or when I get some coffee. I don’t, not this time. I woke up and...nothing.”

“Do you think someone slipped you something? You were drugged?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I blacked out. I woke up...I was sick, nauseous...in pain. I was splayed in the backseat of my car...and my underwear was missing.”

Miranda nodded slowly, “What did you do when you woke up?”

“I sat for a while...I couldn’t move without feeling like I was going to vomit,” she reached up and started rubbing her temple, “I tried to get myself together...waiting for the sick feeling to pass. Then I called Will.”

Miranda glanced at her partner who was still writing on his notepad, preoccupied but keeping an ear out. Then she turned to Diane once more, studying her. 

She looked away, fed up with being looked at. She was so tired and she wanted to sleep. She wanted to go home. She wanted to figure out what she was going to do after this. And she wondered how big of a mess she’s made of her life in one single night and a string of bad decisions mostly born out of anger and hurt.

“Do you often go out alone to drink?”

“No,” she answered dryly. “I don’t go out to drink alone. Usually, I share a drink at the office after hours with Will. We don’t get drunk...we just wind down.” She paused, “Last night was just...different.”

“What was so different about last night?” Miranda asked, curious. “Why did you go out?”

“I didn’t feel like sitting at home,” she shrugged. “Or working.”

She could feel Will’s eyes in the back of her head. She knew he was wondering the same thing. She could have stayed home and drank, but she chose to go out alone and on a weeknight. If she wasn’t out to meet someone or field for some casual encounter, then why? He hadn’t pressed for that particular knowledge yet and she wasn’t sure if that was due to him not wanting to press her or he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know.

“So you went out instead,” she nodded. 

“Not my brightest idea,” Diane muttered.

“Was there anyone at the bar that stood out? Anyone who caught your attention?” 

She shook her head, “No. I was pretty intent on getting a drink.”

The corner of the redhead’s mouth slanted a little, “Did anyone seem suspicious? Maybe a little too friendly?”

She thought for a moment, “There were a few men there...some of them approached me but I didn’t engage.”

“Do you remember the bartender?”

Diane looked at her, “He was...older than usual bartenders. My age, I think. He was friendly. He served Will and I our drinks when we went there three weeks ago.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow, “You seem to remember him?”

“He told me me he liked the way I laughed,” she looked at Miranda.

“This was last night?” she asked.

“No,” Diane replied. “That was three weeks ago.”

“I didn’t see you talk to the bartender,” Will said from behind her, frowning.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, “You were in the men’s room.”

He looked at her for a moment, thinking for a moment before nodding.

Miranda looked at the two before concentrating on the woman again, “Was he there last night? This bartender?”

“Yes,” Diane nodded. “He said hello and served me tequila.”

“Did you get his name?”

“No...I don’t usually ask bartenders for their names,” she frowned.

“This one seemed friendly with you,” Miranda pointed out.

Diane looked at her, “Aren’t bartenders usually friendly?

“I guess they usually are,” Miranda nodded. “Do you remember anyone else?”

“No, I really don’t...I don’t remember a lot,” she sighed.

“Is there anyone you can think of who would want to cause you harm?”

“I’m a defense attorney,” Diane said dully. “We don’t make a lot of friends.”

Miranda tried not to show her amusement, “Is there anyone you can think of that’s shown you some...unwanted attention? Anyone who makes you...uncomfortable?”

“Anyone I can think of who would assault me? No,” she said, frowning slightly. “I’m sorry. There’s no one in my life like that. I can’t help you there.”

“Alright,” Miranda said, glancing at Will. “We’ll let you rest now, Diane. If we have questions...we’ll get in touch with you.” She looked at her closely, “I’ve been in this line of work for a while now...do you have someone with you at home?”

“No.”

“I’d advise you to have someone with you,” Miranda said softly. “It will be difficult...it might not be hitting you yet but it will. You won’t want to be alone for that.”

“She has _me_ ,” Will said from behind her. “She won’t be alone.”

Miranda looked at him meaningfully before nodding, motioning her head towards the door. She took out a couple of cards and handed one to Diane and then Will, “If you remember anything else. Don’t hesitate to call. We will do everything we can to find the man who did this to you, Diane. We have evidence and you did the right thing coming straight here.”

She nodded, taking the card and placing it on the bed next to her.

Miranda headed out, motioning for her partner to head out with her. Will pushed off the wall he was leaning against and stood next to Diane. He looked at her, taking her withdrawn appearance before following the two detectives out. 

“I’ll be right outside,” he said to her quietly as he left.

The advocate slipped back into the room just before the door closed, leaving Diane alone with the kind stranger once more.

**o0o**

“Hey, what the hell was that about?”

Miranda had been warned about a reaction like this by Kalinda and she turned calmly to face the fired up defense attorney. She kept herself between her partner and the lawyer, willing to take the heat for this particular confrontation. Kalinda was also sly enough to tell her Will Gardner’s anger didn’t do well against women.

“I’m sorry if that seemed a little harsh—”

“A _little harsh_?” Will hissed, “He was badgering her!”

“I was trying to get her to remember,” the man said, a lot calmer than he was inside the white room.

“Are you kidding me with this?” Will hissed at the flame haired woman, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It works, however indelicate it may seem,” Miranda said in measured tones, “It helps some people remember when they’re pushed. It worked with your partner.”

“Don’t you think she’s been through enough?” Will spat, “This what you do? Pull the good cop, bad cop bullshit on traumatized rape victims?”

“We do what works,” Miranda returned, “It’s not pretty but it works. She needs to remember as much as she can.”

“No, she needs to be treated with _respect_ ,” he growled.

“Hey, it needed to be done, pal,” the said bad cop said obnoxiously.

“Don’t even—” Will pointed a finger at him, his eyes dark and venomous. “Don’t you even start.”

“Mr. Gardner,” Miranda cut in before tensions could boil over, “I’m sorry. It wasn’t the best way to handle it but it did help. And it’s not our job to hold her hand. We need answers and we need them fast. I’m sorry if our actions seem clumsy.”

Her tone was firm but gentle, which was deliberately measured to quell his anger. It worked, somewhat and Will stopped, placing his hands on his hips as he looked right at her. He still looked angry but he didn’t seem to be ready for another round with them.

“You think this... _method_ works?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“It does with certain types of victims of assault,” she answered honestly. “She fits the type. Pity and a soft touch weren’t going to work on her. I think you know that.”

“Well, I’ve never seen her this way,” he grumbled. “This is kind of a first for us. Better be the fucking last.”

She nodded, “We’ll try and make sure of that.”

“You think you can catch this guy?” he asked, eyes fierce and dark.

“I do,” she nodded, “But this will not be getting better right away and you know it. You’re a defense attorney, Mr. Gardner. You’ve been on cases like this. You’ve gone after victims like her.”

Will swallowed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he glared at the woman. There was no sense in denying what kind of work he did and what cases tended to fall into their laps. Will didn’t go usually for cases like this, but it wasn’t always a choice, especially when the client mattered.

“It’s going to get a lot worst before it gets better,” she said. “My partner needed to push her to remember what she couldn’t. We need all we can get from what happened in that bar.” She sighed, “Now, you go back inside and be there for your partner. Let us do our jobs.”

“You’ll go to the bar?” he asked.

She nodded, “Yes. And we’ve got her car and all the evidence from tonight. The faster we get to the evidence, the more we have to understand what happened.”

“You’re a friend of Kalinda’s?” Will asked only to receive a snort from the other detective.

Miranda shot her partner a dark look before answering Will, “Yes. We’re friends.”

Will looked at his feet before looking at her again, “Thank you...for doing this.”

She tilted her head to the side, a small smile curling in her lips before she nodded slowly. She held out a hand for him to shake, which he did and gave him a genuine smile before turning and leaving with her partner. Miranda smacked Damian on the back of the head as he walked ahead of her, ignoring the squawk of protest that came from the man.

Will didn’t watch him leave and instead leaned back against the wall he’d been leaning against the last five hours they’ve been there. He glanced at his watch then at the closed door. The same nurse who has been attending to Diane all night had gone back in again.

He sighed and pressed the heel of his hand into his left eye.

**o0o**

Diane watched the nurse once more.

She had come back without a word and started gathering things up once more. She checked the forms she filled out and rechecked the labels she’d written on the evidence she gathered. She was thorough and methodical. She folded a copy of the police report and labeled the box with the file number from the paper. She asked for her signature before putting it aside.

Another woman came in with a stack of papers. She smiled kindly and handed them to Diane. They were labeled Victims of Violent Crimes Fund Waiver.

“If they rule that you were the victim of a violent crime you won’t be billed,” she handed her the papers. There was a growing stack of papers next to her on the bed. This was not something that needed to be explained to Diane. She’s watched women—clients—go through this already.

Diane signed the remaining forms and thought idly how this wasn’t much different from work. She’s become such a pro signing her name on the dotted line and initialing things she can do it in her sleep. Her brain feels like it’s floating and she wondered if perhaps she was actually asleep then. Once she was done signing, the woman left the room with a smile, leaving her with the nurse and the advocate.

The pile of papers were copies of forms she signed and some information on follow-up care for her body and her mental health. There were lists included of counselors they were suggesting she visit, the funds waiver, community resources for Rape Victim’s Advocate Society, a list of group centers and support groups. In some sick sense of irony, she realized these were the same groups and centers that she has been donating her money to and raising funds for for years now. Her pet causes, as Will liked to call them. She never thought for one moment she would be one of the beneficiaries of these places and yet here she was now. She didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry about that.

She had the forms and papers. It was all piled next to her but she didn’t touch them. What she doesn’t have in this pile are a copy of the police report, her statement or the forms from the rape kit. It won’t matter—somehow she knew Kalinda will get her hands on them. She tried not to think about what that meant for her.

Finishing up and holding the rape kit, the nurse headed for the door then stopped. She told Diane she was allowed to go home and then hesitated, which caught her attention. The woman turned and faced her, surprising her when she placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Good for you,” the taciturn woman said and surprised her entirely with her statement. They’ve spent the better part of five hours together and they didn’t, not once, hold an actual conversation until now. “That was hard to do, I know. But you did it,” she paused, “God bless you.”

Then she was gone, leaving Diane with her advocate.

**o0o**

“Diane.”

She looked up as Will entered the room with a bag. Her lower back was beginning to ache from hours of sitting. She didn’t feel inclined to move though. She didn’t have her watch as it had been taken into evidence and she was sure he had her mobile phone. She was sure by now the sun had to be up and Will should be at the office by now or at least on his way.

“I had Kalinda bring you some clothes,” he said, placing the bag next to the stack of papers. “I cleared your schedule for the day. Whatever client you need to meet with today either gets rescheduled or Julius will handle it.”

He was detached. Angry and detached and she could see it. But the last five hours have given him enough information to form an opinion about what happened to her. His gut was telling him something was very wrong. Diane may have been drunk and she may have made some bad decisions but something was telling him this wasn’t about some drunken mistake. His skin was crawling and there was a pit in his stomach that was just getting worst.

She may have been raped though there wasn’t any of the television-glorified violence and battery that people would associate with this type of crime. She had been victimized in a more subtle way—less violence though no less traumatic. She may want to think this was a drunken mistake, that somehow this isn’t as bad as she thought it was but something told Will it was exactly as they were thinking. Someone had preyed on her and brutalized her without her knowing.

Will was angry, he was seething with rage he couldn’t begin to express. He hated that Kalinda had even remotely suggested that she would cover up a drunken mistake with a false claim of assault. She didn’t really think that, he knew, but the defense attorney inside of him knew—it would be something callous people will consider to be the actual truth. It would sure look like that if the evidence didn’t point otherwise. And it made Will furious.

Realizing he’d lost himself in his own darkness, Will looked at his partner and he couldn’t help his heart clench a little. She looked a little lost, staring off into whatever was there he couldn’t see, her hands curled into the paper gown they had dressed her in.

“Diane,” he kept his voice low and soft, hoping not to startle her. “Get dressed. I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t want to go home, Will,” she said quietly.

“Are you feeling sick again?” he asked, frowning.

“No...yes, but not that,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “The rape kit turned up semen,” she breathed, her eyes welling up in tears. “Some...someone-some stranger was in my car last night—inside _me_ and I don’t remember who it was or what he had and he _didn’t_ use a condom—” she stopped, choking and turning pale all of a sudden. “I can’t remember what happened to me...what he did while he-he...” she pressed her hand over her mouth.

The forgotten advocate suddenly stood up, grabbing a wastebasket that was in the corner of the room. She handed it to Will just as Diane bent forward and retched into it, sobbing as her body began to convulse again. There wasn’t much left to expel, mostly just what little liquid she had left in her stomach and saliva. Will held her hair away from her face, his jaw clenched and his face a mask of repressed rage. 

He put the impromptu bucket down and went back to her side. She was openly sobbing now and she didn’t flinch this time when he wrapped his arms around her. He hugged her, holding on to her as she cried, resting his chin on the top of her head. Will closed his eyes, not knowing what to say and settled instead with simply holding her for as long as she would let him.

There was nothing he could say or do to make it all go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I joined tumblr. I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have. It's a treasure trove of endless 'moving pictures' (haha I like that instead of GIF) with Diane and Kurt. In happier times. It's making me smile. And it's distracting the mindset I'm supposed to be in writing this story. 
> 
> Also, tumblr is filled with Christine Baranski being stupid beautiful. It's very distracting. Very very distracting. My boyfriend-fiance-husband will start getting jealous if I keep going. My fascination with Steph Curry didn't bother him but this will.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: there is no Major Crimes Division in the real world Chicago Police Department but I’ve made one for this story.

“So, that was her, huh?”

“Who?” Miranda asked distractedly as she got out of the unmarked black Crown Victoria, squinting as she eyed the bar sign on the front of the building across the street. The sign that was hung up rather nicely had The Foxhole written on it in bold maroon letters and had a silhouette of a sitting fox with a fluffy tail next to it.

“The wasp lawyer the old bastard’s dating?” he slammed the door and locked the car behind them.

“By _the old bastard_ you mean the man leading the most successful Major Crimes team we have running?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at her partner. “Not to mention my mentor.”

“Right, I forgot,” Damian smirked, “You’re one of his.”

“You didn’t,” she rolled her green eyes at him, “I don’t know anything about what he’s been up to.”

“Well, you will now,” he cracked, “Did you tell him?”

“Why? He’s not listed as next of kin.”

“You know he’s gonna fucking lose it when he finds out, right?” Damian made a face, “Come on, Pacci. You really not gonna tell him? He’s gonna rip my head off ‘cause he can’t rip _yours_ off.”

“How do you know he hasn’t found out yet?” she asked as they crossed the street together.

It was nearly nine in the morning and most of the businesses on this particular street tended to open around much later in the day. This area was happy hour row and the bar she was eyeing was no different. She’d called ahead though, pretending to be a customer who lost her phone the night before. The owner was there for the morning doing some paperwork and had been nice enough to tell her he’d have no problem having her drop by and take a look.

“Because I’ve still got my nuts intact,” he whined. “He hates me.”

“That’s not entirely uncommon, you realize that?” she smirked.

Damian scowled, “Hey! Feelings.”

Miranda laughed, “I’m sorry, Boyle. I forget you’re human sometimes.”

“Well, I am,” he muttered. “So what’re you gonna do about him?”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she said dismissively. “Besides I heard talk it fizzled out.”

“So did I but I don’t know,” he shook his head, “I heard it was pretty serious...not that I blame the guy. On her worst day, she’s still a looker. Did ya see how close that partner of hers was?”

“You are such a gossip,” she shook her head, standing at the end of an alleyway beside the bar. She eyed the nearly full dumpster and the street lights and imagined what it would look like in the dark at night. The parking lot for the bar was in the back, according to a sign above the dumpster.

“I’m informed,” he insisted. “Besides, it’s not like it wasn’t all over the place. They got outed in the fucking middle of a case he was testifying on while she was on the other side! Not like this is a state secret!”

Miranda ignored that, “He’ll handle it.”

“He’ll handle it? We talkin’ ‘bout the same guy here?” Damian said with derision, “His woman just reported a rape. We’re lucky if he doesn’t end up shooting someone dead by the end of this case.”

“He’s not gonna kill anyone,” she shook her head, “He’s got the cleanest record on the force. He’s a straight shooter. I always liked that about him.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s so clean,” he muttered. “Still a bastard though.”

“Just because he won’t tolerate dirty cops,” she smirked. “He helps clean up the force. Keeps us honest, doesn’t it?”

“Fucking snitch is more like it,” he grumbled.

“If he was a snitch he’d be dead by now,” Miranda pointed out, not at all bothering to sugarcoat the realities of being a cop. “Watch yourself, Boyle. He’s gonna be Chief one day.”

“Like that’s gonna happen,” he snorted, “Everybody’s gonna mutiny.”

“You’d think that,” she snorted, “He’s popular in the ranks. Hell, he’s got more friends than you.”

“Hey! That’s a load of BS if I heard any,” he said indignantly. “He’s a sanctimonious ass.”

Miranda laughed, “He’s heard that one before. He can’t help it if he’s honest.”

“That’s one word for it,” Damian said. “He’s an old bastard.”

She wrinkled her nose, “You know he’s like, in his late forties, right?”

“Really? Looks way older,” her partner said, surprised. “If he kills the fucker who touched his girl I wouldn’t blame him...I’d probably do the same thing.” He paused, “After I cut his dick off and feed it to him.”

“So you believe she was raped?” she asked, looking at him under the morning sun as they stood on the sidewalk in front of what was technically the scene of the crime.

Damian stopped, “If she’s lyin’ then she’s a damned good actress ‘cause she’s got me fooled.”

She nodded absently.

He frowned, standing next to her with his hands in his pockets, “We’ve been doing this long enough...there was no GHB in the blood work but it could be something else. I think someone slipped her something.” He shook his head, “The one night she goes out alone too.”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Miranda said, shaking her head. “Let’s go inside and see what we can find.”

“On your six,” he nodded, following her lead as she made her way towards the unlocked doors of The Foxhole.

****

**  
o0o  
**

“...put it on hold and have Julius meet with Chandler Reilly later today,” Will held his head in one hand as he looked at his laptop. He paused to listen to his assistant Lydia on the other side, “No...tell them she’s at home resting but she can’t come in today. Move everything she has to Friday. No, I don't know if she'll be back by then but I don't want clients bolting because they're panicking over her absence.”

He looked at his watch then down the hall that led to his bedroom and his bathroom. He could still hear the shower running but it’d been nearly an hour since he’d sent Diane in there to wash up.

“I don’t know if I’ll be coming in today,” he said absently. “I’m with Diane. Has Kalinda checked in yet?” He nodded, moving a few things around on his laptop. “Have the other investigator...uh, what’s her name? Right. Robyn. Yeah, tell everyone Kalinda’s on a case and Robyn’s theirs for the day.” 

He heard his house phone start to ring and Will paused for a moment, letting the machine pick it up. It couldn’t be work—none of his clients had his home phone number. The line was mostly for family, friends and calling for takeout. When the caller refused to leave a message, he ignored it. 

“Okay, if there’s a problem with any client, call me,” he said, “I’ll be on my cell. Tell Cary that Crozier may seem like a sweet nitwit from nowhere Michigan but she’s not. Tell him to keep objecting to throw her off her game.” He smirked, “As long as he stays on her ass then he’ll be just fine.”

He hung up, putting his phone down next to his laptop and continued with his work. This was the first time the firm would be down both its name partners at the same time and while Julius Cain was an admirable managing partner, Will knew it wouldn’t be enough. He would only be so lucky if the day ended without a mutiny. Or a fistfight between Julius and David Lee who was, at the moment, trying to drown his phone in messages that were mostly filled with complaints and criticism of his and Diane’s absence.

Will ignored his vibrating phone, knowing it would only be David again and continued to work. He was nearly done with what Cary Agos needed for the deposition he was supposed to be in charge later that afternoon. He really needed to be in the office to hold down the fort but Will also knew he couldn’t leave his partner alone, not so soon after the ordeal. She’d fought him tooth and nail about going home while he was driving and the only compromise she could agree to was letting him take him to his place so she could shower and clean up after the nightmare she just went through.

It had been a low blow, reminding her of the fact that she hadn’t yet showered and he thought she would want one after what happened. He’d been horrified when her eyes filled with tears and she turned away from him but he couldn’t take it back anymore once he had said it. After that, the car ride had been silent the rest of the way to his place. Once inside, she didn’t say a word to him and simply went straight to the bathroom with her bag and quietly closed the door behind her. Will knew what he had to tread lightly but he’d been awake for hours without enough rest and having her fight him tended to bring out the worst in him especially when he knew he was right.

He’d apologize when she came out, he thought, then glanced at the hallway again. _If_ she ever came out. He sighed, rubbing his hand tiredly over his face. He needed to shave and shower. And sleep, god he needed sleep. But the constant vibrating of his phone and the emails that were pouring in seemed endless. The world may have stopped for them but definitely not for Chicago and the firm, Will thought darkly.

The ringing of his house phone started again and Will glanced at it, waiting for the machine.

“Will.”

He frowned, getting up and made his way towards the island in the middle of his kitchen where he’d left his house phone. It was Kalinda and she didn’t bother leaving her name. 

“I got your message,” she said, “He knows. He’s looking for her. I told him she's probably at home but he’s gonna figure it out when he gets there and finds the place empty. Just thought you should know.”

Will’s eyes darkened, swiping the phone from the island.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice. “How did he know?”

“Cops talk,” she said simply. “And he and Diane weren’t exactly a secret.”

“She didn’t ask me to call him, Kalinda,” he rumbled.

“Yeah, I think I know why,” she said. “Did she tell you they broke up?”

Will frowned, “No. But if they did, that’ll explain a lot of things. How’d you know?”

“Like I said, cops talk,” she said simply. “But it wasn’t too long ago. She didn’t say anything to you?”

“He’s not exactly our favorite topic of conversation,” he said simply. It was an unspoken rule that any topic regarding Diane’s latest paramour was off-limits between them. Will was still sour about having found out the way he did—in open court in the middle of his case—and he generally just didn’t like the guy. The only reason he tolerated the guy’s existence was how adamant was Diane about his presence in her life. As long as she kept him out of the firm then Will didn’t care.

“Color me surprised,” came the dry response. “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know,” he responded, “She’s taking a bath. She wants to go to work.”

The ghostly smirk he knew so well was practically singing through the line, “Are you saying this surprises you?” She paused, “She’d want to keep herself distracted. What’s better than an office full of screaming lawyers?”

Will rolled his eyes, “Did you get anything?”

“I’m waiting for copies of the bar’s surveillance the night before,” she said. “Pacci’s there right now so they should be getting their own too. Diane’s car’s been taken into evidence.” A beat, “I obtained a copy of the police report...they found semen and some hair that may belong to the assailant.”

“Yeah, they did,” he nodded stiffly. “The stupid fuck wasn’t exactly being careful.”

“We’ll find out if the DNA turns up anything,” Kalinda said. “In terms of evidence...you’re solid. But proving this was rape? That’s another ballgame.”

“It was rape,” Will insisted. “But I hear you. We’ll find proof. They have evidence from her less than five hours after the incident. If he slipped her anything, it should be in the blood work, right?”

She didn’t reply immediately, “They didn’t find any GHB. They’ll try for the full panel and see what turns up.” She paused, “I really did call you just to warn you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Will said then frowned when he heard knocking on his door. He’d forgotten he ordered takeout for them—he was starving and he was also hoping Diane would eat. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon and from all the vomiting she had been doing he knew she needed to eat something. “Listen, I gotta go. Keep me posted.”

She hung up without another word and Will put his phone down, grabbing his wallet from behind his laptop and headed for the door. He padded across the room in his socks, trying to remember how much the total cost of his order was. He had shed his leather jacket and shoes the moment he could after Diane had disappeared into the bathroom and it left him in his jeans and white t-shirt along with his socks.

“I forgot how much—” Will was saying as he opened the door only to stop when he realized it wasn’t the Chinese takeout he had ordered earlier. He stopped, steeled himself and stood straighter as he faced his somewhat unexpected visitor. He raised an eyebrow, a dark look passing over his features.

“Kurt.”

Dressed in a blue sport coat, a white shirt and jeans, Diane’s former lover stood at the door with his gun attached to his hip next to his shield. The man looked livid though stoically so—which wasn’t surprising considering he was a Marine who served in the Gulf War and he wasn’t exactly known for having an enthusiastic conversational prowess. He just simply mastered silence—for his military career or a personal quirk, no one was sure. 

Inwardly, Will listed that as one of the many reasons why he couldn't fathom why Diane had even gotten together with the guy. She was so animated and such an excellent conversationalist who absolutely loved to talk, he wondered how the hell she managed to keep such stoic company, let alone have one for a lover. 

That and he really couldn't understand what she saw in the man. She was a beautiful and charismatic woman and Will had seen her go out with the kind of men that suited her. Most of them were usually of the same vein--fellow lawyers, a few notable politicians or successful men of industry. Her tastes usually ran along the lines of men who were always dressed to the nines and matched up to her styles and breeding perfectly. 

How Diane could end up with the former soldier that was Kurt McVeigh who happened to be serving as one of Chicago’s finest, was beyond him. Commander McVeigh was currently heading his own unit in the specialized Major Crimes Division under the Bureau of Detectives and that was about it. Will wasn't sure if he could imagine the man quoting Tolstoy or Dostoevsky. He didn't go to the theater or the opera like Diane, he liked to go fishing and he drank beer. Diane was a wine and bourbon kind of a woman. The unusual and obviously doomed pairing still baffled Will.

Still, here he was, casting a somewhat foreboding shadow on his doorstep. Will could have happily gone on without seeing the man and with his sense of over protectiveness on full force, this was as far as he was going to get.

“Where is she?” was all Kurt said though there was an unusual brittleness in his voice. His face looked like it could be etched in marble, clean shaven with not a hair out of place wearing his usual Military Ivy League haircut. There wasn’t any discernible emotion on his face except that stunning stoicism. He was trying not to seem too hostile, though he kept that certain rigidity recognizable as someone from the service.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Will stepped outside of his apartment, not caring for one second that he didn’t have any shoes on. He closed the door behind him, keeping himself between it and the uninvited guest. The man was older than him by nearly fifteen years and he could easily beat him to the ground but Will was determined to stand his ground.

Kurt raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat, “I just need to see her, Will. Please.”

“I don’t think what you need takes priority here,” Will kept his voice low and calm.

He looked at him with hooded eyes, “You should have called me.”

“She didn’t ask me to call you,” Will responded, “which doesn’t surprise me since apparently you two broke up.”

“We had a fight,” Kurt said, looking surprised for a beat. “Two weeks ago. We haven’t talked since.”

“Sounds like a break up to me,” Will shrugged.

“Well, it _wasn’t_.”

Will gave him a sardonic grin, “Yeah...but see, I don’t care.”

Kurt frowned, “You care about her. I do too.”

“I’ll call you when she asks for you,” Will said simply, ignoring the older man’s statement.

“Will, I know we never saw eye to eye,” Kurt started, pointedly ignoring the scoff that he received for that. “But I do care about Diane. I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s just fine,” was the vague response he got though that didn’t deter the older man.

“I’d like to see for myself.” 

Will frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “What exactly do you know?”

“Her case is being handled by Detective Miranda Paccininni,” Kurt said, his jaw tensed. “She’s the best we got in the sex crimes division.”

“Did you talk to her?” Will raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t need to know.”

“I think you do,” Will gritted out. “Maybe then you’ll understand why I can’t just throw you in her face right now.”

“Will, for god’s sake,” there was a note of frustration in his voice.

The younger man took a step forward, his eyes darkening and his shoulders tensing, “She’s not okay, Kurt. She was attacked last night and she doesn’t know who did it. She can barely handle being around me, how the hell do you think she’s gonna feel around you?”

Kurt’s jaw tensed, “I didn’t hurt her.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

****

**  
o0o  
**

“Oy! You got customers here!”

Detective Damian Boyle was loud and obnoxious in the otherwise empty bar. There was soft jazz music playing somewhere but other than that, the place was pretty peaceful. In the light of day, the bar seemed surprisingly clean. The tables had been put away with the chairs stacked on top of them which made moving around the floor easier. The bar was clean save for some papers on the corner along with some pens and an iPad.

“Yeah? Here I thought there was a sign out front saying we’re closed.” 

There was a shuffling sound and then a middle-aged man appeared. He was attractive with his dark hair, clean cut trademark boyish good looks and a pair of blue eyes that stood out. He had a rag in hand, wiping his hands as he stood behind the bar.

“Sorry, guys,” he smiled, “We don’t open until five. We can go for four but 9am is just pushing it.”

Miranda flashed her badge, “We’re not here for drinks.”

“Ah, two of the Windy City’s finest,” he gave her a charming smile she was sure worked pretty well with the ladies. “What can I do for you, Detectives...?”

“Paccininni,” she said simply then jerked a thumb at her partner next to her, “This is Detective Boyle.”

“Welcome to The Foxhole, detectives,” he tilted his head slightly, “What can I do for you this fine morning?”

“Looking for the owner,” Miranda said.

Damian placed an elbow on the bar, “Got some questions about last night.”

“Well, that’s me,” he said. “Something happened last night?”

“Yes,” Miranda said, “What’s your name, sir?”

“Tully,” he said with a charming boyish grin, leaning forward on the bar with his elbows on the polished surface, “Tully Nelson.”

“Mr. Nelson,” Miranda began, “Were you here last night?”

“Always am,” he said easily, “Gotta make sure the place doesn’t fall apart. It was Ladies Night. Those are usually our best nights here. What can I tell you?”

“Well, how about start with telling us a little about last night,” Damian said, “Anything odd happen? Any incidents? Notice anybody sticking out?”

“It was pretty busy,” Tully frowned, putting his rag away. “Normal night, I guess. Our usual for a weeknight, you know? Didn’t hear any complaints...except maybe about the toilet but we got that fixed. What are you investigating exactly?”

“Well, it ain’t about the bad plumbing,” Damian said sarcastically. “We’re looking into a rape.”

The charm dissipated quickly and a serious look suddenly came on the man’s face, “What? Someone was raped here last night? In my bar?”

Miranda nodded, “It’s looking like it. Can you help us out, Tully?”

“I’ll try,” he suddenly looked troubled, “I was here last night but not the whole night. I had to leave around eleven. But I left the place with my guys. They didn’t say anything about...a rape?”

“It happened in the parking lot out back,” Damian nodded towards the back door.

“Oh, jesus,” the bar owner groaned. “We have cameras...and a couple of guys who act as our security to avoid incidents like that from happening. We’ll cooperate as much as we can.”

“Good to know,” Damian said, “So last night was good?”

“Yeah,” Tully answered, “For a weeknight, we did pretty well. I left with an hour left ‘til last call. Didn’t think it would be a problem...guess that’s been shot to hell.”

“Bars usually stay open ‘til 2am around here,” Miranda frowned. “You guys close at midnight. Why?”

Tully shrugged, “My customers are usually the corporate types...they like to play a little then go home and get some sleep. I only keep the bar open ‘til 3am Fridays and Saturdays.”

Damian nodded, “Alright. That makes sense, I guess.”

“You say you left around eleven, but maybe you can help us anyway,” Miranda took her phone out and pulled up a picture of Diane Lockhart she’d managed to find online. It was taken from a party at some DNC fundraiser. “Any chance you recognize this woman?”

“Yeah,” Tully said, frowning. “She was here last night...wait.” His eyes squinted then his mouth fell open slightly and he suddenly went pale, “She was raped?”

“Yes,” Miranda said slowly, “Do you recognize her?”

“I do,” he nodded, “She came in...once before but with a friend. I remember her...bourbon, neat. She was here last night but this time she was alone and she ordered tequila and martinis, not bourbon.” He looked at the photo, “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Damian said sarcastically. “On account’a she ended up in the ER with her face all bruised up and her head bashed in pretty good. Know anything about that, Tully?”

Miranda didn’t bother correcting the exaggeration taken by her partner. Damian worked best when left to his own devices when it came to extracting information. As long as he didn’t cross the line, she didn’t leash him.

“Oh, my god,” Tully muttered, handing Miranda her phone back and looking green. “I served her two shots of tequila and a couple martinis. That’s all. I remembered her because she had a nice laugh and I liked it. She was attractive,” he said and then he stopped, his eyes widening. “I mean...attractive but not that I would—I wouldn’t—”

“Mr. Nelson,” Miranda cut in, “She was attacked last night in your parking lot. I need your help. You say you noticed her. You found her attractive. Did you keep an eye on her? Watch her some?”

“I tried talking to her,” Tully answered, “When she was here the first time, she was pretty easy to talk to. She was...happy, I guess? She’s a lawyer, I think. But she was happy about work and she was celebrating with the guy she came in with. We talked for a bit when we had the chance...but last night, she didn’t seem to feel like talking. I left her alone.”

“You remember a lot for someone who runs a bar,” Damian frowned, “You see, what, hundreds of people a week?”

“She...stood out,” the older man said with a slight shake of his head, “I don’t know. A lot of women come here, most of the time, younger and nothing that would catch my attention, not really. But nobody underage, you know, just the usual happy hour crowds. She was my age and she had that laugh. It was hard to forget her.” He looked sad for a moment, “God, I can’t believe...jeez, I’m sorry.”

“Notice anyone bother her last night?” Miranda asked, “anybody get a little too close for comfort?”

Tully frowned, “Not that I can remember. A couple of guys tried to chat her up but she blew them off. Someone else—someone young—tried to buy her a drink but I told him she was sending them back.” He shook his head, “It was a packed night. I only saw those guys and I only served her a couple of drinks. I didn’t see if she was still there when I left. I was in a hurry.”

“Someone else took over your post?” Damian asked, his eyes roaming the bar, noticing the cameras mounted.

“I don’t really have a post,” Tully shrugged. “I tend to go around. My bartender would probably know. If she was here until closing, he’d be the one to have served her, for sure. Myra was working the tables last night.”

“Any chance they’re here right now?” Miranda inquired.

“Joe’s out back stacking the shelves,” he jerked his thumb behind him then turned to head where he’d come from. “Hey, Joe! Come out here.” He looked back at Miranda and Damian, “Myra won’t be here until four-thirty or five. She’s got a kid so she takes him to school and picks him up at three. She sleeps in between.”

Miranda nodded, glancing at her partner who was still looking around the room. 

“Joe’s working the bar tonight again?” she asked absently.

“Yeah. He’s kind of a pain in the ass sometimes,” Tully muttered. “Hey, Joey! You deaf?” he yelled, this time louder. “Get your ass out here.”

“Yeah?” a younger man emerged from the back, maybe ten years younger than the bar’s owner. He was tall, maybe six-foot-four with jet black hair, brown eyes and a muscular build. “What’s up, T?”

“Got some people who wanna ask you about last night,” Tully motioned towards the two detectives, “Stay with them. I’m gonna get the security tapes from last night.” He turned towards Miranda, “Uh, do you need one of you guys to come get them or do I bring them out?”

Miranda glanced at Damian, an eyebrow raised, “How about Detective Boyle goes with you?”

“Sure,” Tully nodded, “It’s in the back.”

Damian nodded, “Lead the way, Mr. Nelson.”

He followed the owner of the bar into the backroom, leaving Miranda alone with the bartender. He had his arms crossed in front of him, a rag hanging from his front pocket.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m Detective Paccininni,” she showed him her phone with the photo pulled up, “Your boss says you were working the bar last night. Recognize her? Blonde, mid-forties?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, squinting his eyes at the photo. “She was here last night. She almost finished a bottle of tequila. Something happen to her?”

“You could say that,” Miranda said casually, “She was raped last night. In the parking lot out back.”

“Wait, what?” he stared at her dumbly for a moment, “Wait, here? Last night? No way.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” she asked curiously.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his head, “This is a pretty nice bar...Tully is pretty into that. Wants to keep the joint classy. So he’s got this place running all nice and clean with those security guys and all the cameras to keep it safe. This isn’t a sleazy place...not exactly a rapist hangout.”

“You familiar with rapist hangouts?” Miranda arched an eyebrow.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I’m just saying...we don’t let scum in here, is all.”

“You served her drinks,” Miranda began, “Did you see anyone buy her a drink? Get a little too close maybe?”

“No, no,” he said, slowly. “There were a couple guys try and get her a drink but she shot them down. Pretty hard too. A guy sat next to her but she didn’t even bother looking at him.” He shrugged, “She got about the same attention you’d expect from a woman like that.”

Miranda felt herself bristle slightly though she didn’t show it, “What does that mean? A woman like that?” 

“You know,” he shrugged, “Hot. I mean, she was a little older than some of the women here last night but she was pretty. She had great legs and a short skirt. And she was alone.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Joe Harris,” he answered. “Joseph but nobody calls me that.”

Miranda couldn’t help but stare at him, “You said she nearly finished a bottle. You didn’t take her keys?”

“No,” Joe shook his head, “Tully did. He put them in the drawer where we usually put ‘em. Besides, she looked like she was fine. She was holding her liquor pretty well. It wasn’t trashy drunk. She just sat there quietly...all sad, kind of.”

She looked him over discreetly, “So you closed the bar last night? Tully said he left around eleven?”

“Yeah, he got a call from one of the guys he’s sponsoring,” he said, “We close around midnight so I only had to hold the place down for an hour so he left.”

“He’s a sponsor?” Miranda asked, tilting her head to the side.

“AA,” Joe replied, “One of his new ones called...needed help so Tully left.”

She frowned, “Isn’t that weird? An alcoholic owning a bar?”

Joe grinned, “Yeah. Kinda. But Tully’s been sober twenty-five years. He said every day is a test and owning a bar full of the stuff he couldn’t touch without risking killing himself was the ultimate test.”

“Huh,” she said, nodding. “Makes sense. Did you see her leave? The woman?”

The bartender stopped, staring at her for a moment with a hesitation he tried to conceal.

“No,” he shook his head, “I was busy with last call.”

“You didn’t see anyone leave with her? Walk her out maybe?”

“I didn’t,” he shook his head, “Maybe Trent or Ray did. The security guys.”

“Are they in?”

“Won’t be til later,” he responded.

“Anything happen last night? Anything stand out?”

“Nah,” he said, “Just the usual ladies night stuff.”

Tully emerged from the back room with Damian who was carrying a few discs with him and waved them at Miranda. The barkeep was looking at his employee closely as he came around the bar. 

“Sorry to hear about that one,” Joe commented neutrally. “She was a real pretty thing too.”

Damian looked at him weirdly then at Miranda who shook her head imperceptibly. 

“How much did you serve the pretty thing?” Damian asked, his eyes centered on the younger man.

Joe shrugged and said dully, “Enough to make her forget.”

Damian raised his eyebrows and Miranda bit the inside of her cheek before turning to look at Tully, slowly looking away from the younger man as she went. 

“You have two guys acting as security here?” she inquired distractedly.

“Yeah, Trent Barnes and Ray Warren,” Tully answered. “Do you need to talk to them?”

She nodded, “Yeah. And your other employee. Myra?”

“Hobbes. Sure. I’ve got their information right here,” he said, pulling out his phone. 

Miranda thought for a moment, “And Joe here says you went out to meet someone you were sponsoring in AA?”

“Yes,” Tully looked up, “Will you need to talk to that person as well? He can confirm we were together from 11 to 1 in the morning. I dropped him off at his apartment.”

“If that’s not too much of an imposition,” she replied in kind.

“Sure,” Tully said, looking through his phone. “He’s a good kid. He shouldn’t be a problem for you guys.”

Damian took his phone and scribbled everything down on his small notepad before giving it back to him with a nod of thanks. He showed them to Miranda quickly before pocketing it once more. 

“Thanks for your time and cooperation, Mr. Nelson,” she said, motioning for Damian to follow her. 

“Anytime, detectives,” Tully said as he pushed his bartender towards the backroom. 

The two detectives made their way out of the bar and into the sunlight. Miranda looked at the discs in her partner’s hands. He looked at the closed doors of the bar then at her, squinting in the sun.

“What do you think?” Damian asked, running his tongue over his teeth.

“It doesn’t feel like the owner’s got anything to do with it,” she said simply. “Too cooperative. Didn’t seem to have a problem giving us whatever he had.”

“Seemed pretty upset finding out who our vic is,” he observed. “Had an eye for her.”

“He liked her,” she shrugged, “She stood out to him.”

“Too bad he had to head out last night,” he muttered, “So, yeah...an alcoholic owns the bar, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there’s a novelty for ya,” he snorted, “Wanna know what I think?”

“Sure,” she said as they crossed the road again to their car.

“We don’t know yet if she was drugged but we know it sure sounded like she was,” he said just as they reached their vehicle. “I’m thinking if she’s as sure as she is about not taking drinks from strangers then there’s no other person in that place that could have messed with her drink besides the friendly old gym rat bartender.”

Miranda nodded, pulling the passenger side door open, “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Hey Pacci?” he called, looking at her over the roof of the car.

“Yeah?” she stopped before she could get in, looking at him questioningly.

“You heard what that guy said, right?”

_Enough to make her forget._

A shadow fell across Miranda’s face, “Definitely.”


	4. Chapter 4

Her hair was wet when she emerged from the hallway.

Barefoot and dressed in the pair of soft yoga pants and cashmere sweater from her bag, Diane entered the main room of Will’s spacious high rise condominium. She looked around, spotting the piles of papers, his mobile phone, laptop and house phone scattered across his coffee table. The jacket he’d worn was thrown haphazardly over the back of the black leather couch and his shoes were underneath the table. She could find his things easily but couldn’t seem to find him which, for a moment, made her worry.

“Will?”

She heard a thump, like something hitting the front door and she jumped. Diane frowned, moving closer to the door though she didn’t leave the living area of the space. She could hear muffled sharp snatches of conversation and it sounded like someone who seemed to be upset enough to raise their voice. She thought it might be Will but she didn’t understand why he would be out there yelling and who he could be fighting with.

Not that she was left wondering long though as the door opened suddenly and Will came through, hot and angry though he stopped short when he realized she was there. He looked at her, softening immediately and stopped, feet covered in socks and looking a little guilty.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his tone caught between trying to sound casual and cheery which only led to an awkward tone that only fed her curiosity. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Diane replied, “Who was that?”

“Uh, I ordered Chinese,” he said, glancing at the locked door behind him. “I thought it was ours but it wasn’t. Indian...for someone upstairs.”

“You sounded angry.”

“No, no,” he waved his hand, “The guy couldn’t understand English and he was...old. I had to speak louder so he could hear me. Not sure if he understood.”

“Oh,” she said then look at the door, “I’m not really hungry.”

“Yeah but you know,” he shrugged, moving towards her, “Just in case. We’ve had cold Chinese food before. It’s from that place you like.”

“Okay,” Diane smiled a little. “Thank you, Will...for letting me come here.”

“Hey, hey,” he said, waving his hand nonchalantly. “It’s no problem.” He frowned, “Did they take a look at the back of your head...?” 

She nodded, “They said I have a concussion...but it didn’t need stitches.”

Will approached her slowly, his eyes meeting hers. When he was standing in front of her, he cupped her chin gently in his palm and looked at her jaw, tilting his head to the side to get a closer look. Her skin was flushed, most likely from the hot water but the bruise on her jaw was still the same startling black and blue. Diane tried not to flinch, turning her face away.

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pocket and watched as she walked away from him. She curled up against one end of the couch, folding her legs underneath her and set her uninjured right jaw against the cool leather material.

“You should get some sleep,” he suggested, taking a seat next to her though he kept some space between them. “I won’t make you go home. You can take my bed.”

“I have a concussion,” she said lamely, “I can’t go to sleep.”

Will turned his head to look at her, “I’ll be here. I’ll wake you up. I’m not gonna let you sleep yourself to death.”

She shrugged, her eyes fluttering lightly. She was exhausted and there were dark circles under her eyes. There was a heaviness about her, the lack of sleep and the chaotic events of the last few hours were weighing down on her. And Will wasn’t blind to it.

“I don’t want to sleep,” she muttered, though her eyes were closed. “Will, I don’t want to sleep.”

He looked at her, seeing her trying to fight off her tiredness. He’d let her fight it off as much as he can but somehow he knew this wasn’t a battle she could win. He’d let her tire herself out and figure the rest out once she was out. It wouldn’t take much, he was sure of it.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, “I have some of...you know, that weird flowery stuff you like.”

She smiled, opening her eyes to look at him with amusement, “And why would you have the weird flowery stuff I like?”

Will couldn’t help but take comfort from seeing the first real smile he’s seen on her face since all this started.

“I’m a boy scout,” he smirked, “I’m always prepared.”

Diane chuckled, “Chamomile?”

“It really tastes like you’re drinking perfume,” he made a face.

“Yes, but it’s soothing,” she insisted.

“Soothing better be a good thing because I have a whole box,” he said, getting up from the couch and heading for his kitchen. He pulled out a drawer and took out a dark wooden box. Curious, she got up and padded across the floor after him. She smiled widely when he lifted the lid, the name of her favorite brand of tea emblazoned across the inside of the lid in gold. He’d somehow gotten his hands on a box set of teas she liked best.

“You are prepared,” she murmured, taking out a small packet of peppermint tea.

He smiled widely at her, “I’m just the best, aren’t I?”

“You are,” she smiled, “Thank you, Will.”

He nodded, taking the packet from her hand and then pointed towards the couch, “Go sit down. I’ll bring you tea and you can take it easy.”

Diane did as she was told, curling up against the couch once more. She looked at the screen of his laptop, recognizing what it was about after reading a few lines, “Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t this for the depo you have schedule today?” she asked, watching him as he bustled around his kitchen.

“Yeah, I’ve got Cary on that,” he said, putting on a pot on the stove and prepared the mug and teaspoon for her.

Diane frowned, “You don’t have to babysit me all day, Will. I’m sure they need you at the firm...they’re probably ten seconds from burning the place down.” She sighed, “I’m sorry, Will. You should go.”

“I know,” he shrugged, turning to look at her from across the room. He stood behind his kitchen island, “But I wanna be here. I’m not leaving you alone, Diane. And honestly? I need sleep. You do too. And I’m taking care of things from here so we’re fine. Thank god for the internet.”

“Will...” the tiredness in her voice was hard to miss.

“Diane, it’s not up for discussion,” he said, turning back to his stove and shut it off once the water was hot already. He poured the water and dumped the bag of tea in it before moving back into the living room to sit next to her. He presented the mug to her with a small smile, “It’s hot.”

She took it from him wordlessly, leaning back and watched him as he went back to work. His phone vibrated, signaling for a message that just arrived which he checked and promptly ignored.

“Julius is managing the firm at the moment,” Will said, patting her knee gently before turning towards his computer once more. “David Lee is sending me about a dozen text messages per interval so I know he hasn’t run amok yet. Howard is locked up in his office so we won’t have to worry about him and I’ve got Cary running point on my case and Caitlin is out meeting with a couple of your clients who are a little restless.”

“Caitlin?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Caitlin D’Arcy was doing well as a second year associate, Diane was surprised by the choice to send her out to meet with their top clients. She was sure Will would have sent Cary who had just made partner and was proving quite the force to be reckoned with.

“I’ve got Parker shadowing her but she’s taking lead in those meetings,” he smirked, finding himself so clever. “She’ll bat her eyelashes at them and speak in that sweet voice of hers. She’ll have them like putty in her hands.”

“These are real businessmen, Will,” she scoffed though she was not surprised he’d sent out the younger woman to cut off whoever might feel slighted at being rescheduled by the suddenly so fickle Diane Lockhart.

“Yeah, real businessmen who’ve got a thing for pretty blondes,” he snorted, shooting her a knowing look.

“What’s David Lee saying?” she asked, ignoring that comment. 

“That he hopes you’ll be back soon because the natives are restless without their blonde amazon,” he tossed lightly then pointed at his phone. “I’m not kidding. He sent that in a text message.”

Being the only one aside from the addlebrained Howard Lyman who had seniority—in terms of age—on Diane, she let David Lee pretty much get away with things. As long as he kept his shenanigans inhouse and it wouldn’t lead to an actual disbarment or bankrupt the firm, she was fine looking away. David was the head of Family Law with the highest billable hours in the firm—he made them money and they left him alone. It was a more than ideal setup. 

As long as Diane dealt with David Lee personally and not Will, peace would rule at Lockhart/Gardner. The prickly old lawyer didn’t like being a managing partner—he hated dealing with people. And he had no desire to be a name partner—unwilling to play kiss-ass to clients who weren’t his. He poured all his efforts and panache on his own paying clients simply because he was selfish but as long as he served the firm well, Diane was fine leaving him alone.

But then the thought of David and the rest of the people at the firm made Diane’s stomach queasy. She bit the inside of her cheek and asked haltingly, “What did you tell them?”

“That you’re out sick,” Will said simply, reading through his paper before emailing it to Cary. “And you need someone to stay with you so I’m here.” He glanced at her, “Don’t worry about it.”

She nodded, opening her mouth to thank him—something she found herself to be doing more and more recently—only to be stopped by the sudden knock on the door.

“And that is food,” Will said happily, jumping from his couch and jogging towards the door with his wallet. “Thank god. I’m starving.”

Diane took a sip of her drink, closing her eyes and swallowing slowly. She needed to regroup, she thought, looking at the amount of work Will was having to do while babysitting her. She couldn’t wallow, couldn’t stop just because she was stupid enough to do this to herself. She needed to suck it up and move on, no matter what this ordeal turned up. She couldn’t keep being a burden to Will. 

“We’ve got enough to feed a small family,” Will laughed, taking the bags of food into his kitchen and started to lay them out on the kitchen island.

Diane pushed herself off the couch, ignoring the slight bout of dizziness getting up too quickly caused her. She made her way to the kitchen and stood next to Will, bumping her shoulder against his playfully.

“Hungry?” he asked with a grin, handing her a pair of chopsticks.

She snagged them from him with a small smile, “Starving.”

They took their seats next to each other on the island and ate, chatting like it was any other day. Will tried to not watch her too closely, studiously ignoring the bruise that was still very much there on her face as they ate. At the same time though he was unaware, Diane pretended to not see the look of relief on his face when she accepted the carton of food he pushed in her direction. Neither acknowledged it, but there was a large cloud hanging over their heads, a darkness that had torn it’s way through their lives in a matter of hours. It was Diane’s darkness but Will was willingly allowing himself to be pulled into it right next to her. He’d see her through this like he knew she would if the tables were turned. They were each other’s constant and he was ready to be there for her, for whatever she needed.

And Diane knew this, all of it. She also knew if she didn’t get herself together and get back to her life, she’d be dumping her responsibilities on Will which was unfair. He’s been nothing short of amazing, getting her through the night, keeping her from falling apart completely and staying with her. She had leaned on Will greatly like she’d never had before and he didn’t waver. But it had to stop. She needed to get back up and stop using him as a crutch. The bruises will fade, the marks on her skin will heal and her body will recover—this nightmare wasn’t going to swallow her whole. She wasn’t going to let it. She’d made enough mistakes, she wasn’t going to keep adding to them.

She had to be better for both their sake.

**o0o**

The music was loud and thumping when the detectives stepped into the forensic laboratory’s garage.

Miranda smiled, reaching for the remote to turn the music down while Damian stood beside her and whistled as he eyed the sleek black Cadillac CTS that had been towed and parked in the middle of the space.

“Well, that’s one expensive crime scene,” her partner remarked, “Looks new too.” He whistled, “Not a damned scratch on this beauty.”

“Barely a year old and still sparkly like a new baby unicorn,” came the answer from inside the car and the raven-haired forensic firecracker that was Aida Morales emerged from the sleek vehicle dressed in an orange mechanic’s jumpsuit with her long hair pinned tightly in a bun. She held a Q-tip in hand and had a pair of protective eyegear pushed up on top of her head, “Hey detectives.”

“Hey AM,” Miranda smiled, “That our car?”

“You bet,” she smiled, waving a glove covered hand in towards the car. “I started processing this one when it arrived. Sweet ride. Hell of a mess inside though so that’s another story.”

She slipped the Q-tip into an evidence tube and labeled it, placing it on the table not too far away from the car onto a specimen holder. She had a few capped tubes lined up already, all of them labeled and prepped. 

“What do you have?” Damian asked, eyeing the car.

“Prints from inside the car,” she started, “Including a full hand print on the window. It was fairly large, most likely male...you can imagine how it got there.” She hummed a little, “And I also found your victim’s wallet under the driver’s seat. Probably fell under there.”

Miranda nodded, “What else?”

“Fluids as in plural,” Aida replied with a dark look, “I have some blood inside from the door. The other two are unidentified yet but if I have to guess, I’d say semen. The other one could be saliva or something else.” She shrugged, “Fact is, we have a lot of DNA to work with.”

Miranda looked at the table with the evidence unhappily. She was glad there were evidence available but it was testament to what their victim could not recall. The car will tell the story Diane Lockhart could not.

“You can tell that just by looking?” Damian asked, skeptical.

“I can tell from experience,” Aida huffed, “There were fluids...a lot of them. And I found a few strands of hair—long and blonde—in the driver’s seat. There were similar ones clumped with the blood by the door but that’s most likely from the assault while the one in the seat is just minor shedding. Your victim is a blonde?”

“She is,” Miranda nodded then motioned towards her neck vaguely, “About hair up to here.”

“Then the strands are most likely hers,” the forensic expert nodded, “I’ll compare the fluids with the rape kit but I think we can agree we already know what it’ll turn up.” 

“Did you by any chance find underwear in there?” Miranda asked. “She woke up without them so I need to know if it was dropped in there or—”

“The bastard probably took it with him,” Aida groused, a flash of anger appearing on her pixie-like features, “I didn’t find any article of clothing in the vehicle.” She glanced at the car once more, “I did find an earring though.”

“Probably lost it during the assault,” Miranda said. “You’ll run that for testing too?”

“I will,” the forensic expert said, “The DNA evidence with the fluids will most likely come back fresh and pristine. The car is damned clean. Your victim probably either just had it detailed or she has it cleaned on a regular basis.” 

“She has her car detailed every two months,” came the rough voice from behind them.

All three turned to face the newcomer and Damian couldn’t help the slight step he took away from his partner. Miranda glanced at Aida who simply shrugged at her. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to show her unease.

“Commander,” she nodded her head in his direction, “What brings you in this neck of the woods?”

The older man gave her a look, “Full service wash every two weeks.”

Damian ignore the tension between the mentor and his former protege, “That’s a lot of cleaning.”

“She likes to keep her car clean,” Kurt responded, his hands in his pockets. “Bought it about six months ago.”

Aida checked her iPad then nodded, “Yeah. That’s about right.” Aida raised an eyebrow at the older man, “You’re not here.” She gave him a sly look and turned away from him, promptly ignoring him and working with the detectives involved in the case. Aida had heard about how this particular case might draw the attention of a certain Major Crimes division head and she had been prepared for a visit. She was glad it coincided with the visit of the detectives in charge of the case.

“So, I recovered genetic materials from the backseat of the car,” Aida said, moving off the topic of the car’s upkeep. “I’ll run them against the rape kit. I took two samples for each, just in case. But the blood is for sure from your victim so we’ll mostly be banking on the semen and the other fluid I’m not certain of yet.” She paused, facing the three officers, “I’ll update you with results when I have them.”

“Anything on the rape kit? Maybe confirmation if she was drugged or not?” Damian asked.

“Not yet,” Aida frowned, “That’s gonna take another 24 hours...maybe more. I’ll give you the results ASAP.”

“Alright,” Miranda nodded, “Thanks, AM.”

She headed out of the garage, followed by the two men who also mumbled their goodbyes. Aida watched them, curious though having some idea of what was about to take place. She guessed Damian would chicken out and run while the redhead will either get a piece of her mentor’s mind or he’d have a piece of hers. She shrugged it off and went back to work. It wasn’t her department anyway but if she could hear bits of the conversation then she’d be fine with it too.

Miranda moved through the laboratory, dodging techs milling about and stepped out into the hallway. She whirled around, prepared for some form of recrimination or rebuke. Damian also expected this which was why the moment he exited the doors, he threw over his shoulder he’d go up to their floor and looked through the surveillance videos ahead.

Kurt walked calmly through the doors, taking a turn and leaned against the wall, “How’s it going?”

“Really?” Miranda raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “You now you shouldn’t be anywhere near this investigation,” she scolded, her green eyes flashing.

“She’s my—” Kurt began only to stop and hesitate before finishing calmly, “She matters to me.”

“I heard you guys were more a past tense kind of thing,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “And even if you were...something in the present sense, that’s all the more reason why I can’t have you hovering like this.” She gave him a look, “And you know I’m right.”

“I know but you can’t just cut me out,” he shook his head, leaning back against the wall. “Miranda, please.”

She gave him an incredulous look, “And jeopardize my case?”

“You know me better than that.”

“I also know defense attorneys better and they aren’t.”

He looked at her for a moment before shaking his head and wiping the side of his face with his hand, “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Why are you even here?” she asked, making a face, “If she...matters to you, why aren’t you with her? She’s going to need all the support she can get with what she’s been through.”

Kurt looked grim, “She won’t see me.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” she raised an eyebrow.

“It’s different this time,” he mumbled, “That...partner of hers is standing guard like some attack dog.”

“Ah, yes, I met him,” she chuckled dryly, “Intense guy.”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ve noticed.” He looked at her, eyes sharp, “You interviewed her?”

“I did,” she nodded, “And you know I can’t tell you anything.”

Kurt nodded, “You have suspects?”

“None that I’ll tell you,” she shook her head, “You should be with her.”

“I tried,” he gave her a sour look.

“Try harder,” she smirked, “I don’t know. The attack dog is bound to go back to work at some point. Check her out then.”

“That sounds a lot like an advise to stalk,” he frowned.

She blew an errant lock of wavy red hair from her face, “Yeah, well, I need coffee.”

“Don’t we all,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What’s really going on, Kurt?” she frowned, mirroring his pose and they stood across the hallway from each other, their backs against the wall. “I’d have thought you’d be busting her door down by now.”

“The last time we talked,” he hesitated and shrugged, “Didn’t really end on good terms.”

“Yeah, it’s called breaking up,” she pointed out.

“It wasn’t a break up,” Kurt shot her a look. “We had a disagreement.”

“About what?” she asked, curious.

“Is this an interview?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

She smirked, “If I get anything useful, why not?” She clicked her tongue, “Quit distracting me. What happened?”

“We were both angry,” he said simply, “Said some things we didn’t mean. We haven’t talked since...‘bout two weeks ago.”

Miranda nodded, “Can I ask what the fight was about?”

“Something stupid,” he muttered.

“Well, that sucks,” she said, shaking her head slightly at him. “Guess it wasn’t much of a relationship if you were willing to break it off over something stupid.”

She gave him a mock salute before moving off, smirking at him knowingly as she went. Kurt shook his head, closing his eyes and stared up at the ceiling above him. The girl was smart and perceptive and it was really annoying sometimes especially when she called him stupid without actually using the words. It was no wonder she made it as detective so quickly and Kurt was proud. But he really hated it when she was right about things like his personal life.

Trying not to let his frustration get the best of him, the lone Commander pushed off the wall and began to make his way down the hall the redhead had disappeared to. She was right, of course. He couldn’t be anywhere near the case. If this by some chance ended up in court, Kurt was going to make sure he wasn’t going to be a pawn in what would most likely be a dirty mess of a case. Any hint of impropriety would mean risking the chance for justice.

Shaking off the heaviness that was settling on his shoulders, he walked off and decided where his next destination would be.

**o0o**

The light knock on the door had Will looking up from his laptop

He checked his phone, noting the time and made his way across the floor. The last uninvited guest had been threatened with a visit from the police despite him being a member of the force. He’d make sure his phone was with him just in case he needed to follow through on his threat. He’d made himself pretty clear, he thought darkly. He didn’t think he’d be coming back anytime soon. Opening the door with a fierce glare, Will was already spoiling for a fight only to stop dead when he realized who was his uninvited guest.

“Kalinda.”

He stepped aside, letting the woman through and closed the door soundly behind her. Her eyes scanned the room, noting there hadn’t been many changes since she’d been there last. Except for the crowded coffee table and the leftover Chinese on the kitchen island, the place stayed relatively the same. 

“You want a bite to eat?” he asked, nodding at the food.

“I’m good,” she said, eyeing the busy coffee table. “Got some work done, I see.”

“All work, no play,” he shrugged. “I had Lydia run a few things over.”

“I dropped by the firm,” she said absently, watching him plop himself back down on his couch. “Julius was doing alright. David Lee’s arbitration went south. His client shattered one of the glass doors. He’s going to be billed for it.”

“Sounds like an exciting day,” Will mumbled as he picked up a few stacks of papers, pen in hand and began making notes on them. “Heard about the arbitration but not the door.”

“I think Julius is trying not to add to your stress level,” she offered. “How are things here?”

“Fine,” he shrugged, looking up briefly to glance at the hallway leading down to his bedroom. “Diane has a concussion so I’ve been checking in on her on and off. What do you have?”

“They’re processing her car,” she answered, “And they’re running the evidence from the rape kit. There were...several.”

“I know,” he nodded, “If there’s anything you can consider good about all of this is the motherfucker was stupid enough to be so careless about the assault.”

“So either he’s new at this or he doesn’t care about getting caught.”

“Either way, we’ll get him,” Will said darkly.

“They’re still running tests to see if she was drugged,” she started. “They’ve eliminated a few things but they’re still testing. Probably won’t be getting results for another 24-48 hours.”

“But they’ll find something, won’t they?” Will asked. “I’ve seen her get drunk, Kalinda. She remembers everything afterwards. She can barely remember last night after taking a couple of shots.” He winced, “And her face...this couldn’t have been anything but rape.”

“That’s what it looks like, yes,” she pointed out.

Will shook his head, wiping his face with one hand in frustration, “When they catch the bastard, they’re going to try and make it look like it was consensual,” he made a face, “Sometimes I really hate what I do.”

The corner of her mouth curled up slightly, “I know.”

Will made a face, “I really need this to work out, K...I don’t want to lose her over this.”

“You brought her in right after the attack,” Kalinda offered, “They’ll find the evidence you need to convict.”

“I hope they trace whatever she was given,” he made a face, “It takes like 24-hours for things like that to leave the bloodstream, right?”

“It can, but she threw up a lot,” she said, frowning slightly. “They have her vomit...” she stopped, looking at Will meaningfully.

She wasn’t the type not to say what she was thinking, especially when it was Will she was dealing with. But he already could already tell what she was thinking. Maybe there was no drugs. Maybe Diane hadn’t been drugged at all, maybe she had just been so goddamned drunk she blacked out and it just made it all the more easier for a scumbag to prey on her. 

Will shook his head, “God, Kalinda...how the hell did this happen?”

She watched him toss his pen aside and shook her head lightly, “Bad luck.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” he muttered, leaning back with his eyes to his ceiling.

“How is she, really?” Kalinda asked, surprising him slightly and even more so when she took a seat on an armchair next to the couch.

“She’s...okay, I guess,” Will shrugged. “She ate then she started to fall asleep. She kept insisting she wasn’t sleepy but it was a losing battle.” He rubbed his face with his hands, “I don’t know what that’s about.”

“Nightmares.”

Will looked at her, “What?”

“She’s probably having nightmares,” she responded. “Or she’s afraid she’ll have one.”

“You might be right,” he said after a moment. “But I’ve been checking on her every hour. She’s knocked out.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“I guess,” Will said, “Does anybody know at the firm?”

“No,” Kalinda answered. “They think she’s out sick. But I’d recommend you coming back tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“The firm can’t be without at least one of you being there,” she said enigmatically.

Will nodded, “I know. I’ll come in tomorrow.” He sighed, “I’ll figure out what to do with Diane.”

Kalinda understood his dilemma but couldn’t help but ask, “Did you get any unwanted visitors today?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Will said a little too nonchalantly.

“She might want to see him,” Kalinda turned in place, standing across from him. “Did you tell her?”

“No,” there was a stubborn set to his chin.

“Will, you might not like him but she did,” she said, arching her eyebrow. “Probably still does.”

“She didn’t ask for him and she didn’t call him,” he showed her Diane’s phone. “She could have called him, Kalinda. She didn’t. And she stayed with me.”

“What are you so afraid of?” she asked, a ghost of a smirk appearing on her serene features. “Are you worried he’ll steal your partner away?”

“He doesn’t stand a chance,” Will muttered, “And she can do so much better.”

“I think that’s for her to decide,” she pointed out. “He cares for her, Will. And you need help. He might be good for her.”

“Kalinda...” he gave her a dirty look.

She stood up, shaking her head at him, “Think about it and maybe this time put what Diane would want first rather than what you think she wants.”

“I’m doing what’s best for her,” he ground out.

“That’s fine if you really believe that,” she shrugged. “They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

He watched as she headed out of his apartment, stubborn to the last and unwilling to budge. He knew she may have a point but Will was prepared to dig his heels in. He shook his head, watching his door close before reaching for Diane’s phone. He looked through it, just in case there was anything important she needed to know about. He came across the voicemail notifications and found a couple from Kurt McVeigh. Will scowled, fighting the urge to listen to them knowing it wasn’t any of his business.

Putting the phone far away from him, Will went back to his work, pointedly ignoring the investigator’s sage words.

**o0o**

Diane Lockhart woke up with a scream stuck in her throat.

Sitting upright in her partner’s bed, she blinked at his alarm clock tiredly and realized it was nearly eight in the evening. Will had kept to his promise to wake her up every three hours just to make sure she was alright. But she’d slept most of the day already and now she was awake. A nightmare had pulled her from her sleep—the first of what she assumed rightly won’t be the last. She couldn’t remember what it was but it was dark and it was enough to rouse her from her sleep. She blinked and rolled over onto her back, wincing as she moved.

Everything was sore now and she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. It was the way she used to feel after long workouts where she’d overexert herself, pushed herself beyond her limits just to burn off energy and pounds. Now she was unused to the muscle strain and felt out of shape. Everything felt like it hurt twice as much.

She drew her legs up, staring at the sheet that covered her knees in the darkness. Her eyes adjusted slowly and she looked without seeing, her mind shying away from the shapeless nightmare she had just emerged from. Her mind tried to reach for something to analyze, trying to find something to make sense of in the dark. She tried to remember cases she should have worked on today, for the itinerary Will had all but dismantled or even the names of the new first year associates they had just welcomed into the fold. But her mind wouldn’t cooperate.

Brushing her hair back from her face, Diane looked around Will’s bedroom. Never for the life of her had she ever imagined she would end up in his there. Sure, they’d teased each other enough but those were games, flirtations they liked to indulge in. But he was like the brother she never had and somehow, she knew that was the reason why she had called him out of all the people in her life she could have called. She trusted Will.

Her mind drifted as she let her mind wander around the unfamiliar bedroom and without realizing it, she drifted right into where her relationship with Kurt McVeigh stood.

And that proved to be a bad choice as she suddenly felt her heart clench and tears filled her eyes once more. She had been upset and unhappy for the last few days. She had been both indignant and remorseful about the fight they had. It wasn’t their first but it might as well have been their worst. Though as bad as it had been Diane had not, for one second, thought it had gone so far that they were over. She had thought Kurt could be so guarded and closed off, traits that she had taken in stride, but on a bad day where she was feeling vulnerable and he was feeling too involved in a case he was working on, they’d managed to lash out at each other in the worst possible moment.

He’d been knee deep in a case—that stupid case that was nagging at him and consuming him. A little girl was dead and there was a weeping mother and a vengeful father. She knew cases with kids bothered him the most and she had tried to be there for him, tried to talk to him, afraid of what the whole sordid affair would do to him. But he hadn’t been willing to let her in, going as far as ignoring her and suddenly, it felt like he hated her for trying.

It had led to the fight that then turned into the two-week silence that left her feeling bereft and adrift. She had called to apologize, left voicemails and text messages to a point where she hated herself for seeming so desperate. She wasn’t usually that way with men but he was different. He made her different. 

Through all her attempts to communicate short of showing up at his workplace—where she drew the line—he left them all unanswered and it only added to the misery that she had slowly let herself get immersed in, one that she kept to herself. She wanted to know what she had done to deserve his silence and how easy it seemed for him to just suddenly sever himself from her when she felt his absence and his indifference greatly. 

Feeling frustrated, upset and hurt all over again, Diane kicked off the covers from her legs, untangling herself from the fabric almost frantically. Thoughts of a man that had just so suddenly disappeared from her life without so much as a goodbye or an explanation only added to the darkness that she felt was slowly choking her like a noose around her neck.

Rubbing the tears from her ears, she padded out of Will’s bedroom and walked down the darkened hallway. The place was quiet and there were barely enough lights for her to see her way through the house. She moved past the bathroom and the home office, her feet silent against the hardwood floors. She found him where she expected he would be only in a much different state than she expected.

The papers and the laptop were still there, along with the phones but Will was no longer buried in them. Instead, he was draped on the couch, legs and arms thrown every which way, deep in sleep. He was still dressed in the clothes he had the night before and there was already a shadow on his face that was so unlike the Will she was used to. She felt her guilt bubble up then once more, wondering if perhaps he’d been too worried about freaking her out if he slept in his own bed while she was there. She imagined it wasn’t often he slept on his couch in his own home and it compounded her guilt. 

Eyeing the papers that he had piled neatly back in order and the glowing laptop, Diane spotted her phone sitting right next to his. She reached for it, biting the inside of her cheek and hoping she wouldn’t disturb him. She took a seat in the armchair, curling her legs underneath her and opened her phone. She had missed an entire day and she expected a barrage of messages waiting for her.

—only to find there were only a few voicemails, a measly ten considering how much more she expected there would be. There were a few emails but no alerts to a meltdown in her absence. There were a couple of text messages; some from Julius as status updates, one from Cary regarding a client and a couple of snide though toothless ones from David Lee. Apart from that, Diane understood that by some miracle, the firm had listened to Will’s order not to bother her—one which she deduced had to have been the reason behind this lack of expected chaos in her mobile phone.

Moving to the voicemails, Diane couldn’t help the sudden lump that formed in her throat when she realized there were two from the list that had come from Kurt McVeigh. She bit her bottom lip, unable to help the way her heart suddenly began to beat faster against her chest. She glanced at Will, almost expecting the sudden change in her breathing to wake him up.

Quietly, she stood up and headed back down the hallway, phone held tightly in her hand. When she reached his bedroom, she sat back own on the bed she had just vacated. Diane stared at the screen of her phone, seeing that he’d left the first message around six in the morning that day followed by another from five o’clock that afternoon. She pressed a trembling hand over her lips, trying to calm her breathing. She forced herself to settle down before finally prompting the first message.

“Hey,” his voice came crisp and clean through the line. “It’s me...I’m sorry I haven’t been returning your calls. I know I was wrong to do that. I’m sorry. Please call me back...I miss you.”

She shook her head, willing herself not to cry at the sound of his voice. He chose today, of all the days that came and went, to reach out and Diane wondered if he has somehow found out about what had happened to her. She felt her heart clench once more, trying to understand what exactly it was that brought him back. Did he know? And if he knew, would he still want her? And how did he get by the two weeks she had been adrift? The thoughts whirled into confusion and it led to another painful clenching of her heart and she felt herself choking back the sobs that were trying to fight their way out of her throat.

Clumsily, she prompted the next message to play.

“It’s me...again,” his voice seemed smaller this time. “I tried to find you today...I came by Will’s place. You were probably asleep. I’m here for you, Diane. Call me. Please...I’m worried about you.”

The messages were predictably brief but it was meant to have said everything he needed to say. But that didn’t mean it was enough for her. Diane sucked in a breath, tamping down the emotions that were stirring within her. He wanted to talk to her, to see her—now. When he wanted nothing to do with her the last two weeks. Now he wanted to talk to her. She didn’t need to guess anymore whether he knew or not. He knew and he was reaching out and somehow, the thought made her angry. Her mind suddenly went on overdrive—what did he want _now_? What was so important _now_? When she was trying desperately to reach out to him, unsure whether she should give him space or fight him to open up to her, he left her alone. She was only trying to help and he had punished her with indifference. The anger bubbled and began to manifest itself.

Diane hardened herself, steeling herself against the sudden onslaught of emotions. She was angry at him for what he put her through, for thinking he could simply walk back into her life just when it had just been blown to pieces. He could barely look at her when she tried to be there for him, now he wanted to be in her life.

Shaking her head, she tossed her phone aside and reached for her discarded bag. It was still full of the papers from the hospital but save from the extra shirt that was in there, that was it. Diane grabbed the pair of running shoes and socks she’d left the hospital in and put them on. Then she angrily shoved her bag on the bed, tossing her phone inside and turned her attention to the sheets she’d left rumpled on Will’s bed. 

Diane knew what she had to do, what her next step was. She made quick work of making the bed, careful to return things to where they were. All the while, the anger continued to simmer as she grabbed her bag and moved down the hallway in the darkness. She paused briefly in the living room, looking at Will with soft eyes. She was sure she wouldn’t have made it this far without him and the haven he had so generously provided for her.

She reached for a piece of paper and his pen then wrote a quick note which she left on top of the keyboard of his laptop. She didn’t want him to worry in the morning when he found her gone. She brushed her hand over his hair for a moment before breathing out a silent thank you. At her touch, he stirred but did not wake, a testament to how exhausted he was, how spent the whole ugliness of the last eighteen hours had left him. Feeling a wave of shame for dragging him into the mess she had created, Diane silently promised him that she would be better, that he would never have to worry about her this way again. Then she headed for the door, her bag in hand and quietly exited the apartment.

She wouldn’t give Kurt McVeigh the satisfaction of finding her there again, Diane decided. The thought made sense at that moment, like she was hitting back with what she had. She was letting her anger guide her, the likes of which she was only able to feel now. When before, he had left her feelings of abandonment, rejection, a sense of loss and sadness, she was stripping it all away and replacing them with her anger forged from pain. He had left her—had screamed at her to get out of his life and she hadn’t listened. Now she was ready to do just that.

Diane was angry with him, angry with the faceless man who had reduced her to this, angry with herself and the choices that led her where she was now. But she was done being sad and being afraid. Let the nightmares come, she thought. Until they manifest themselves with actual knives or bullets to spill her blood with, she knew she would live with them rather than hide from them. In the stillness of the night, Diane made her way out of her partner’s home, glaring at her mobile phone angrily before deleting the voicemails from the man who had so callously rejected her. She was done with him as he had been with her two weeks ago.

And with her anger blossoming in her heart, Diane disappeared into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

The only indication that the office was occupied were the drapes that had been drawn that left the glass room shut tight against outside observers. That in itself was an anomaly as most of the offices in the firm was made out of glass. The young woman who acted as the assistant for the occupant of the room sat outside, fielding calls and visitors who would like to enter the enclosed sanctum. So far, about half an hour into the day, the would-be visitors that mostly consisted of associates were barred from entry, an anomaly too though one that would not be indulged with curiosities.

Will Gardner strode into the sitting area that divided his office and the closed off one that belonged to his partner. He’d spent the morning putting himself together and trying to contact his errant partner. His calls had gone unanswered and it irked him, wondering if perhaps the obstinate woman thought the scrawled note she had left on his laptop was enough of an explanation why she chose to disappear the way she did.

He eyed the closed doors and then their assistants, both women were studiously keeping their eyes on their work though he knew for certain there was no way they were missing any of his movements. He shook his head and slipped into his office to discard his jacket and place his briefcase on his desk before crossing the floor to the other room.

“Mr. Gardner, she asked not to be disturbed,” the young brunette warned though meekly just as he reached the well covered double doors.

He shook his head at her and held his hand out for the key without a word. For a moment, the young woman looked like she was going to protest then thought better of it. Whether she gave in or not, she was putting her job on the line. She’d seen already what happened when anyone got in the way of a row between the two partners and she’d rather step out of the way and be fired later by the indignant blonde that have her male counterpart take his frustrations out on her.

Wordlessly, she handed him the key and sat back, ignoring the look her fellow assistant was giving her. Nobody would want to be in her place, it was best to be quiet.

Nodding his thanks, Will opened the doors confidently and simply shut them soundlessly behind him. 

Diane looked up briefly when she heard him barge in before going back to the papers she was reading. She was dressed in a navy blue blouse with a high collar and a dragonfly broach. She was seated behind her desk with an air of nonchalance as if it was any other day—as if the events of the day before hadn’t happened at all.

“Good morning, Will,” she said though her voice was in a monotone, “Cary’s deposition went well. I think he’s getting himself a hefty settlement.”

“You should be at home,” he pointed out, ignoring the progress report he had already gotten from the subtly excited newly minted partner. He was sure Cary had been waiting for him by the elevators that morning just to share with him the news.

“I _was_ at home,” she said, moving on to the next page. “Now I’m at work where I’m supposed to be.”

Will frowned at her, “I’m serious, Diane.”

“So am I, Will,” she looked at him over her glasses. “I have no interest in staying home and wasting away.”

“Not wasting away,” he shook his head, taking the seat available from across her desk. “You need time to recover.”

“From what, exactly?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “I’m not severely injured. And I don’t remember anything. What exactly do I need to recover from?”

“You were attacked—regardless of whether or not you remember it, it happened,” Will shook his head, “You need to rest. And Jesus, did you have to leave? You have a concussion.”

“I set alarms to wake myself up,” she said, lying. She hadn’t really slept at all after arriving home the night before but she didn’t need for him to know that. “I’m fine, Will. Really. I am.”

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes hooded and unsure, “But if you’re not...you talk to me, you understand?”

“I will,” she nodded, “I just...I need to be distracted and work is a very good distraction. If I stay home, I’ll stay in my head and that...is just dangerous.”

“Don’t I know it,” Will said with a slight snort, “But Diane, you still need sleep.”

“I think I’ve slept enough,” she responded bitterly. “I’d rather not sleep again, if I had it my way.”

Will narrowed his eyes, leaning forward in the seat and settled his elbows on his knees. He studied her intently, wondering at the meaning behind such a loaded albeit dully delivered statement. 

“Why?” he asked.

There was a part of him that was waiting for some sort of break or a sign of her crumbling under the weight of what happened. But she was working on overdrive trying to convince him—and maybe herself—that she was alright, that she wasn’t going to break and she wasn’t going to crumble. 

A lot of things about the situation worried him but he knew pushing her on the matter would just make her shutdown and work twice as hard to continue with this act. He couldn’t afford to have her shut him out, not when she was depending on him to have her back. He would give her the space she needed but he would watch her closely just to make sure she was alright and should she need anything, he would be there. 

“It didn’t help my headache much,” she muttered, shuffling papers and began to sign them page per page.

“Did you remember something?” he asked, frowning.

“No,” she snapped then caught herself. She gave him the most apologetic look she could muster, “I mean, no. There were just...bad dreams.”

“Bad dreams?” he echoed. “About the...”

“No,” she shook her head, “Just...dreams. Nothing I could discern. But I really have slept enough, Will. Thank you for giving up your bed for me. That couch didn’t look too comfortable.”

“It’s good for crashing,” he said idly, “The bad dreams...it’s probably you trying to remember. Subconsciously.”

She bit back the sarcastic reply that almost left her mouth and reminded herself Will had been nothing but good to her the since the whole ordeal began. He didn’t deserve her abuse.

“Someone hurt you, Diane,” he said quietly. “You’re still trying to cope with that and it will take a while but you will. In the meantime, I don’t want you overdoing anything.”

“I’m fine, Will,” she murmured, removing her glasses and looking at him with kinder eyes. “I really do appreciate all you have done for me...but I’ll be alright.”

He stared at her, thinking for a moment before nodding with a small smile, “Okay.”

Then he stood up, moving around her desk to lean against it next to her. He tilted his head to the side and looked at her jaw where he knew the bruise had been the day before. Diane had done pretty well covering it with makeup but there was still an ominous glow from underneath that showed. For a passing look, nothing would seem amiss but to someone like Will who knew what to look for, it was still very much there no matter how carefully she had gone about concealing the awful reminder of the assault.

“Can you see it?” she asked, avoiding looking at him.

“No, you’re good,” he shrugged and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Christ almighty!”

They both jumped and looked towards the doors, startled by the sudden appearance of David Lee barging into the room with the usual flourish he was well known for. He stood there, dressed in a dark blue suit and an irritated look on his face. Behind him Diane’s all too frazzled assistant stood, looking anxious only to be shooed away by the head of Family Law like a pest. The girl was meekly trying to protest but she was quickly chased out of the room and had the doors shut behind him, giving the two partners a look.

“Will made it sound like you were an inch from death and yet here you are,” David’s voice boomed in the room. “What gives, Diane? You look fine to me.”

She looked at Will who simply moved away from her desk and turned to face the newcomer. He straightened his suit, looking completely unbothered by the intrusion. 

“Good morning, David,” he returned neutrally, adapting the same tactics his counterpart had used on him earlier.

“Good morning, Will,” the older man replied, his voice slick with his usual brand of sarcasm. “Are mommy and daddy back? Because Uncle Julius was a _pain in the ass_.”

“That’s probably because your client threw a chair through a door, David,” the blonde said mildly, elbow on the arm of her chair and resting her chin on her curled knuckles delicately.

“It was a very lively exchange,” David said dryly, showing no remorse at all for the destruction of property. “One for which he has already issued a check.”

“Good to know,” she said simply, a ghost of a smile playing on her patrician features serenely. 

“So what gives, hmm?” David asked, obviously miffed that he was being kept out of the loop. “What’s with the disappearing act? The way Will was snarling and growling at everyone to leave you alone, you’d think you were at death’s door.” He gave her a look, “What don’t I know?”

“It was personal, David,” Will said before Diane could answer. “That’s why it’s called a personal day.”

“Well, gee, I never knew that. Guess you learn something new everyday,” David said with exaggerated sarcasm then frowned at them both. “No...no. There’s something going on. You two are...touchy-feely more than usual.”

Diane and Will looked at each other then at the two-foot wide space between them. Then they turned to give David a look.

“Not talking about that,” he groused. “Something is going on. What is it?”

Will took a step forward, his eyes dark only to have Diane touch his forearm gently and stopped him from moving another step closer. David didn’t miss the way the younger partner had suddenly seemed to go dark and his eyes narrowed at what he perceived to be a silent threat from the younger man. David shoved his hands in his pockets, turning his own darkening eyes at the blonde who was still discreetly holding her dark haired counterpart back.

“David,” she began only to have Will turn to her.

“Diane,” he cut in, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t have to do this—”

She gave him a look which was enough to silence him and he stepped back, lightly shaking off her hold on him and turned his back towards her. His shoulders and jaw radiated with rebellious righteous anger on her behalf. He was hoping to keep her from having to do this as long as possible.

“Oh, please, spare me the soap opera,” David complained loudly. “Somebody tell me something,”

Diane sat back, her shoulders squared and her eyes meeting his dark look head on, “The night before last I went out for a drink...alone.” She paused, “And someone attacked me. Will didn’t want me to come in yesterday because he felt it prudent for me to rest at home to recover.”

“Someone attacked you?” David frowned, “Who the hell...what do you mean attacked?”

Will turned to face him, his eyes practically black with repressed rage, “It means what it means, David.”

David smirked, “Well, this is just too dramatic for my taste. Come on, you’re saying Diane...” He stopped, furrowing his brow as he looked at Will who looked like he was about to burst out of his skin. “Wait, you’re really saying someone...this is a joke, right?”

“It’s not,” Will shook his head stiffly.

“Oh, come you, you really think I’d fall for that...” his voice trailed off as he looked between the two once more, noting the protective—almost primal—stance the younger man was taking around the blonde. He’d noticed there was an unusual reservedness about Diane which was unlike her but now that they were trying to tell him what had brought all this about, he couldn’t help the sudden disbelief that came over him. David felt himself pale slightly, his mouth falling open. Someone had attacked Diane Lockhart and some part in David’s mind clicked into place. It wasn’t just any sort of attack.

“Attacked...where?” David asked, a lot more composed than before though he avoided looking at her and instead kept his focus on Will. “Tell me.” 

“At a bar,” Will said, “There’s an investigation being run.”

“Investigation?” the older man echoed, “You took her in for evidence?”

“Yes,” Will replied evenly, “It needed to be done. We’re not playing fast and loose over this.”

“Who did it?” David hissed, his eyes flashing. “Who the fuck did it?”

“I don’t know,” Diane said, swallowing tightly. “I don’t remember anything, David.”

“You don’t remember?” he frowned, turning to look at her with a bit of reluctance, “How the hell—?”

“We think she was drugged,” Will said simply, sticking to the facts. “We’re trying to keep this quiet, David. I don’t want anyone in this firm knowing about this. Right now, it’s you, me, Kalinda and Diane.”

David looked at Diane with such intensity she had to force herself not to flinch under his scrutiny, “You were drugged?” He looked infuriated, “Someone roofied you?”

“We think so,” she bit the inside of her cheek. “David, please—”

She wasn’t able to finish what she was saying as the older man suddenly left the room, throwing the doors wide open and left with his anger hanging in the air in his wake. Diane shook her head, leaning forward on her desk to hold her head in her hands. She let out a shuddering breath, trying hard not to start hyperventilating. Telling David was a lot harder than realized and she was beginning to wonder how she would handle thing when everyone inevitably found out. There was no use keeping something like this quiet and she was trying to tamp down the sudden panic that was rising with her thoughts. 

“God, he’s going to tell...everyone,” she muttered, covering her mouth with her hand, “Shit.”

With darkened eyes, Will looked at her before shaking his head and squeezing her shoulder once before following David out of the room. He took large stride and moved so quickly, Diane didn’t even realize where he was heading until he was already at the doors. Her eyes widened as she watched him leave, seeing the angry mask he wore as he trailed after the errant divorce attorney. She didn’t have to guess what was about to happen.

“Will, don’t—”

And for the second time in the span of less than five minutes, her words were cut off and promptly ignored as he all but marched out of her office. Diane sat back, brushing her hair back from her face with a shaking hand and hoped to god she won’t have a dead divorce attorney in her hands by lunchtime.

**o0o**

She placed a steaming cup of takeout coffee on his desk.

“Gee, thanks, Pacci,” Damian grinned and handed her half his doughnut. “So I dropped by the bar last night.”

“What’d you find?” the redhead asked, dropping her bag into her drawer and locked it inside before straightening up behind her desk. It was early morning and the precinct was already busy so naturally Damian was already behind his desk.

“Well, our friendly muscle-bound bartender wasn’t in last night but I got to talking with the girl and the two security guys,” he said, “She doesn’t remember anything weird about that night. Or our vic.”

Miranda wrinkled her nose, “Well, that’s not helpful at all.”

“Yeah, but then I asked about Joe the bartender,” he said slowly. “The girl doesn’t like Joey-boy and didn’t need prying to spill the beans on him. Looks like he got the job ‘cause his old man knows Tully Nelson. But she says he’s a slacker and he’s a sleaze who’s probably about to get fired. He’s been a pain in the ass to Nelson.”

“How?”

“She says he’s lazy and he doesn’t come in a lot of nights,” he shrugged, “Myra says she thinks he does weed and possibly something stronger. He became a gym rat ‘bout four months ago but she said he was a douche way before the newly obtained physique came into the picture.” He took a drink of his coffee, “Tully runs a small business, he likes it running nicely and Myra says Joe’s just not helping.”

“That’s something Nelson forgot to talk about,” she raised her eyebrows, biting into her half of the pastry “Then again, probably doesn’t want his employee to know he’s sacking him. What about the bouncers?”

Damian checked his notes, “They remember seeing her but Ray—the one who watches the back door to the garage—says he didn’t see her leave.” He paused, “He saw her car after closing but didn’t think much of it. Nelson’s pretty strict about getting keys off customers too drunk to drive. He figured the owner’d be back the next day for the car.”

Miranda frowned and brushed some powdered sugar off her cheek, “How _did_ she get her keys back anyway?”

“I don’t know but I saw a bit of the video yesterday,” Damian said, “Nelson did talk to her for a bit then he held his hand out and took her keys around the time he served her the martini. She didn’t fight ‘im for it. Just handed it over.”

“He probably figured out what she came there for,” she guessed.

“Looks like it,” he agreed.

“The bouncer in charge of the back,” Miranda began, “He was at the door the whole night? No bathroom breaks? Didn’t duck out for a call?”

“He said he was but then Myra mentioned something about a bit of a scuffle out front. Nothing major but it got the two guys out there. So for a bit he wasn’t at his post.”

“When was this scuffle?” she asked, her brow creasing.

“Near closing,” he said and easily caught her look, “I know. I thought the same. Suspect probably got her out of there before Ray could get back to his post. He’d have to have been quick about it but it was a busy night.”

“If she was drugged and it hadn’t taken effect fully yet...that might explain why he hit her,” she muttered. “With the drugs in her system, it would be easy enough to knock her out and walk her out of there like anyone who’d just had a bit too much.”

Damian thought for a moment, “It’s possible. But wouldn’t people notice if he hit her?”

“Depends on how busy the place is,” she said, “We need to figure out how she got her keys back.”

He scowled, “We know who had access to those keys.”

“Proof would be nice,” Miranda bit her tongue, “Let’s go back to the tapes. You haven’t finished them?”

“No,” he handed her a disc, “This is from the bar. I’ll take the surveillance from the parking lot and the floor.”

“Alright,” she nodded, booting up her own department-issued computer. “Did Myra say why Joe wasn’t in last night?”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “Just said she hoped he doesn’t come back.”

**o0o**

“Hey Aida.”

The dark haired woman looked up, smiling widely when she saw Kurt McVeigh approaching.

“Did anyone ever tell you I _like_ my men in uniform?” she said flirtatiously, eyeing the black sport coat and white button down he paired with some black jeans.

“Sorry, forgot my dress blues today,” he said lightly, “Got anything for me?”

“For your double murder or the one you’re not supposed to be touching?”

He gave her a look, “Guess.”

“Well, your double murder is still running DNA,” she jerked her finger to one of the corners in her laboratory. “As for the other case...same. DNA is running but I can tell you it matches the rape kit. If I get a name I’ll be sure _not_ to tell you.”

“Aw, come on, Aida...”

“I like you too much to have you behind bars, gunny,” she chuckled lightly. “I haven’t updated Pacci and Boyle yet but I think I found Flunitrazepam.”

Kurt frowned, “Rohypnol?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure yet,” she shook her head, “There was zero GHB in her system so I went looking for something else...like I said, a lot of fluids. She threw up twice when she regained consciousness and the hospital got her urine and blood within three hours of the assault. The compounds look like flunitrazepam but I’m still running tests.” She sighed, “It’s crazy hard to detect though...and honestly? TV shows make it look like it’s easy to get this stuff and dose random strangers but it’s not even legal in the US. So it’s hard to get this stuff here. There’s like less than 3% of rapes committed using this drug. Most of the times sleazebags use benzodiazepines because it’s easier to get and will generally have the same effect. And they’re common enough that almost a lot of people are downing the stuff like candy.”

“So how do you get this stuff exactly?”

“They’re legal in other countries as prescriptions medication,” she made a face, “These days pharmaceutical companies make sure they mark the tablets specifically and put a type of dye on it...like so when it’s dropped into a drink, it’ll change color? But then counterfeit ones don’t bother with those.” She sighed, “I don’t know how that helps but if it’s there and it was used on your...her then I will find it.”

He nodded stiffly, “Aida...?”

“Yeah?”

“What...how does this stuff work?” he asked, quietly. “When used on women?”

“It’s like a sleep aid...but it’s more potent,” she started, biting the inside of her cheek. “Like ten times more potent than Valium. There can be respiratory issues when not taken properly. It’s dangerous. It _can_ kill. But used as a date rape drug? It can incapacitate a person within fifteen minutes, maybe less...especially when there’s alcohol involved.”

“So it knocks you out?” he probed.

“Totally,” she nodded earnestly. “Like...completely gone. That’s why it’s used as a sleep aid. It works very fast and very well...it’s dangerous when in the wrong hands.”

Kurt swallowed hard, “What about memory loss?”

“Anyone dosed wouldn’t remember a thing,” she sighed. “It would incapacitate a person, knock them out and they’d wake up with no memory of what happened to them.”

His eyes darkened, “So...can’t give consent?”

Aida frowned, pursing her lips, “She wouldn’t have even been able to move...let alone speak.”

**o0o**

“Hey, look at this...”

Damian snapped his finger at his partner, getting her attention from his side of the desk. She frowned, pausing her own video before moving her chair next to his. Their desk was a study in contradiction—his an endless pile of stacked papers and scattered paperclips while hers was a more sedate order with a box for outgoing and incoming documents perched neatly next to her computer. Damian’s had at least six post its stuck to his screen and two files under his monitor.

“What is it?”

“Check this out,” he said, pointing towards his screen. “This is from...eight o’clock the night of the assault. See how the camera covers the lot?”

Miranda nodded, “Yeah.”

“It was a pretty quiet school night so I’m gonna fastforward to...” he let the video play at a higher speed, “This is eleven-oh-nine. See that?”

She watched the screen closely and noticed the camera begin to more slowly, taking focus away from half of the garage and further out into the back of the lot. Her eyes widened, “Someone moved the camera?”

“Yeah,” Damian snorted, “Someone moved it away from the door. See? You should be able to see someone who just got out of the door in the back...now nothing.” Then he rewound the video then paused to a time stamp for eleven o’clock, “See that?”

Miranda looked at the car he was pointing to, closest to the front of the screen, “That’s our victim’s car.”

“Yeah that’s the spanking new Cadillac we got parked downstairs,” her partner nodded passively, “Parked close to the door. Whoever moved it knew they were taking the car out and the exit out of focus.”

She shook her head with a sour look, “So there won’t be any video of whoever took her to her car and assaulted her.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “But then we just gotta ask who knows about these cameras and who had access to them.”

“Just like who had access to the drawer for the keys,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “That’s another one.”

“That narrows down our list of suspects significantly,” she pointed out.

Damian nodded, looking quite satisfied with himself, “Hell fucking yeah.”

“Great,” she smacked him on the shoulder happily, “That’s great work, Boyle.”

“Thanks,” he nodded towards her computer, “What about you? Get anything?”

“Well, I saw Tully take her keys,” she moved back to her own desk, “And it does confirm he moved around the bar for a bit and left her alone. Couple of guys sat next to her and tried to chat her up but she didn’t have a problem icing them out.” She pulled up the video evidence and Damian watched the screen next to her, “Nothing else happened so I went back...and noticed something odd,” she pressed play and pointed to their subject. “That’s a cocktail.”

“Looks like some fruity concoction,” Damian observed, “That’s not from Tully anymore.”

“It’s not,” she nodded, “Looks like a tequila sunrise and Joe served that to her. He tried to talk to her too.” she rewound the tape to when she first saw the bartender interact with the blonde woman, “Watch.”

They watched the video play out, and Damian zoomed in on the two people they were discussing. The younger man laid down a napkin with a smile and served her a drink in a highball glass. She curled her fingers around glass and he leaned forward, moving closer than across the bar towards the blonde. He gave her a smile and said something to her that made her suddenly go rigid and she reared back, nearly spilling her drink. She said something to him and they watched his face turn dark and he replied with a shake of his head then turned away from her. He had a sour look on his face and he shot her a glare before moving on to another customer.

“They talked for a bit,” Damian raised an eyebrow. “And it pissed him off.”

“Looks like it,” she agreed, shaking her head slightly. She fastforwarded the video again, “It goes on for a while. She went back to the tequila shots and ordered shot after shot...he serves but he still looks pissed with her. And then here’s this,” she hit play and they both watched the bartender make another round to his blonde patron in the corner. He leaned forward again only to have her hold her hand up suddenly as if trying to tell him to stop. She shot him a glare before standing up, her drink finished and moved out of screen.

He craned his neck slightly as he watched, “Where’d she go?”

Miranda moved to another video file, “Looks like the rest room.” They watched the blonde disappear into a hallway.

“She’s got some drinks in her by now...” he said, looking thoughtful for a moment. “She looks pretty steady on her feet for someone who’s practically polished off a bottle of tequila.”

The redhead nodded, “Remember how Joe said she handled her alcohol pretty well?”

“Right,” he nodded, “So she’s fine. We’re at...eleven-twenty now.”

“Line’s are long in bars,” Miranda said, “We don’t drink alcohol, we rent it, right?”

“Well, that’s something I’m not gonna want back,” Damian muttered.

“So...here,” she went back to the file they were observing, “She’d be in the bathroom around this time. Her seat stays empty but our bartender,” she played the video, “Disappears into the back. Tully would have been gone by now. He’s manning the bar...and Myra even comes in smacking her hand on the bar to get him back out front.”

“Well, he looks pissed,” he said as they watched the young woman exchange words with the bartender before putting her tray down and visibly demanded the drinks she needed. He prepared them, all the while arguing with the woman before sending her off. “This guy’s a real charmer, eh.”

Miranda smirked, “When Myra leaves, he disappears again.” They watched as he reemerged from the back, this time with a calmer expression, “Then look...” they watched as he poured another shot of tequila and placed it on a fresh napkin in front of the empty seat, “Look like anyone ordered that?”

“Didn’t look like it,” he responded, “And she’s back.”

The tall blonde appeared at the bar again, this time placing cash next to the untouched drink. Harris appeared, taking the money and speaking to her in what looked to be a somewhat more relaxed manner. The glares and the dirty looks from the muscled bartender were gone. The blonde kept standing but then began to interact with him as well. She looked tensed but the young man kept adapting a more casual demeanor. He looked like he was trying to get her to stay which she seemed to reluctantly agree to, taking a seat on the bar once more and downed the shot waiting for her.

“Well, he’s the bartender,” Miranda said, shrugging. “Technically...a stranger but he’s in charge of the drinks so...” She nodded, “Yeah, he doesn’t count until he does.”

“Looks like she was ready to leave but he got her to stay,” Damian frowned, “Must have worked a hell of a lot of a charm to get her back from that after pissing her off.”

“Yeah,” Miranda nodded, “After this...he disappears into the back again. Then he comes back in and serves her another shot of tequila. Then that minor scuffle breaks out near the front of the bar.” She pointed at the screen, “He goes in the back...you don’t see him in any of the cameras.”

“What about her?”

Miranda looked at him, “That’s just it. We don’t have anything after that.”

“What are you talking about?” Damian frowned, “You saying we’re missing something?”

Miranda pointed to the time stamp, “The video gets cut off at eleven-fifty.”

“We’re missing ten minutes of surveillance?”

“Either that or the cameras were shut off,” Miranda shrugged, “I’ll run it to digital and see if they can figure it out. But yeah, altercation breaks out at ten minutes before closing. The bartender disappears presumably to help and then...poof. Surveillance is cut.”

“Couldn’t have been Tully,” he said, pointing a finger at the screen. “He’s got some priors but they’re all on protests and shit like that when he was younger. And the DNA from the kit isn’t his.” He sighed, “Couldn’t have been the girl. She was workin’ the floor. The two bozos at the doors stayed in camera the whole night.”

“What about the bartender?” Miranda asked, “Anything on him?”

“Let’s see if we have anything on Joey-Joe,” Damian said, tapping a few keys on his computer. “I’m not seein’ any priors here. Got a few tickets for crap driving...but he’s never been printed or had DNA taken. Well, jeez.”

“There’s always that memorable first time,” Miranda mocked. “He’s got no priors but won’t hurt to have another chat with the bulky fella.” She leaned back, “We’re looking at everyone who’s got access to these cameras and the drawer for the keys. Right now, I’m only seeing Joey-Joe as a potential anything.”

“We’re gonna have to go back to the bar,” Damian said, crossing his arms over his chest. “If anyone tampered with the surveillance, it wasn’t Tully—he was gone before the parking lot cameras were adjusted and I stayed with him the whole time he was getting us these vids. He didn’t have a chance to pull anything.”

“Yeah, probably because it wasn’t him,” Miranda said just as her phone vibrated, “It’s Aida. She’s got something.”

Damian grabbed his jacket, “We gotta get the rest of those ten minutes.”

“ _If_ they exist,” she pointed out. “This case reeks something bad.”

Her partner grunted, “Didn’t it always?”

**o0o**

“How the hell could this happen?”

“It happened. We can’t change that.”

“I don’t care,” David Lee snarled, “How the hell could this happen?”

Will shook his head, “I don’t know. But it happened and we have to keep a lid on it, David. Do you understand that?”

The older man was pacing his office, the doors shut and his assistants confused. He had walked into his side of the building yelling at the two unsuspecting women about being left alone but Will had been hot on his heels and had managed to barrel his way in before he could shut the doors.

“Was she targeted?” David asked, rage coursing through his veins.

“What?”

“Was she fucking targeted?” he growled. “Of all the people in this goddamned city, how the hell does someone get to her that easily?”

“I don’t know.”

“How close are they to catching the bastard?”

“I don’t know.”

David gave him a look of disgust, “Well, what do you know?”

“I don’t fucking know that either!” Will finally exploded, raising his voice higher than he’d ever done at work. It took David by surprise, the full impact of the rage the younger man had been tamping down had finally boiled over and he’d just witnessed it. Will stood, breathing heavily with his eyes dark and his fists curled at his side. He felt like throwing things, felt like picking up the stupid candy dish on the desk and hauling it at the wall. “I don’t know, David. Because I wasn’t there! She went out on her own because—fuck if I know but we’re here. And we’re gonna fucking do what we need to do to get through this shit because it’s all we have.”

David stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned, taking in his anger. He opened his mouth to speak only to have them interrupted much like he had done at Diane’s office.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Julius Cain stood, scandalized and furious at having been alerted to raised voices starting from Diane Lockhart’s office that involved David Lee and then of Will Gardner in David’s office with more raised voices. For the most part, Julius was just bothered with the thought of everyone being so unprofessional screaming at each other with the day barely closing in on lunch. And with David in the mix, Julius was sure blood would start pouring from the walls if he didn’t intervene.

“We have clients going in and out of here,” Julius thundered, “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?”

Will and David looked at each other and before anyone knew what was happening, the name partner of the firm picked up the candy dish full of M&Ms and threw it across the room against the closest wall. Julius’ eyes went wide and David couldn’t help but shake his head as glass and pieces of colorful pieces of chocolate exploded around them, clattering to the ground. 

“Marjorie, clean this up!” David bellowed before pointing at Julius. “That’s on you.”

“What’s on me? What the hell is going on here?” 

David looked at Will who had all but plopped himself down on his couch and gave Julius a look, “We have a situation.”

“What situation?” Julius asked, looking at Will oddly. “Is it Diane?”

David’s assistant came in, looking around the room with a deer caught in the headlights look. He gave her a dark look before bellowing at her once more, “Marjorie, get out!” He glared at the hapless woman, “And close the damn doors!”

Once the doors were shut, he turned to face Julius, “Yes, it’s about Diane.”

“What about Diane?” Julius frowned, “Is she alright? I was informed she came in today. I thought there was some kind of an emergency but you were being rather vague, Will.”

“An emergency,” David looked at Will, “That’s one way to put it.” He stopped, “She was in the hospital.”

“Was? Means she’s not anymore,” Julius said slowly. “So...she’s okay?”

David made a motion towards the name partner, “Will?”

“Nobody else was supposed to know,” Will gritted out.

“It’s an open investigation,” David pointed out, “I’m surprised it hasn’t spread like wildfire.”

“What’s an open investigation? Are we being investigated?” Julius’ eyes were wide with sudden alarm, “Is Diane being investigated? What the hell is going on?”

“They’ll keep her identity from coming out as much as they can,” Will said. “It’s the law.”

“Yeah, well it’s also fucking Chicago, Will,” David pointed out. “Nothing stays hidden in this city. Or have you not realized that in your zealousness for secrecy?”

Will glared at him, “This is her choice. I’m doing what she asked.”

Julius looked between the two, “What the hell is going on?”

The two men looked at him, realizing they’d forgotten he was there to begin with.

David turned his dark glare on Will, “This isn’t law school, Will. We’re not debating the First and Fourteenth Amendment. I’m saying for all the shit that’s technology worth, don’t bank on this being kept quiet.” He pointed a finger in his direction, “This will blow up. And you know it.”

“I’m keeping it as quiet as I possibly can for her sake, David.”

“That’s gallant of you but you’re being naive if you think she’s getting what she wants there,” he snapped.

Julius crossed his arms over his chest, “So clearly this is about Diane. What the hell does the Fourteenth Amendment have to do with this?” 

David looked at Will before shaking his head and looking right at Julius, “Someone attacked Diane in a bar the night before last that’s why she didn’t come in last night and why Will is suddenly acting like a neanderthal around her.”

Will snarled and bolted from his seat, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“You have this one,” he pointed at the stunned form of Julius Cain, “Running around like a goddamned headless chicken chasing her cases and her clients. He has the right to know what the hell he’s doing it for.”

“He is doing it for the name partner of this firm which she is!” Will hissed.

“What do you mean attacked?” Julius asked, barely catching up to the fast exchange that seemed to just exclude him at every turn. “Oh, my god. Is she alright?”

“She’s in her office,” David said with a scowl. “She’s got a bruise on her face—” he shot a glare at Will, “Think I missed that?” Then looked at the stunned lawyer again, “It’s an open investigation and Will thinks he can keep it under wraps.”

“What? Someone hit her?” Julius’ eyes widened, “This is a joke, right?”

“No,” Will said, calmer though he pointedly ignored David Lee. “I took her to the hospital yesterday around three in the morning and a rape kit was processed.”

“ _What?_ ” the managing partner’s mouth dropped open, “A rape kit?” he took a step back, stunned. “Oh...my god.”

David rolled his eyes, “Yeah. That’s a better reaction.”

“What? Wait, is this some sick joke?” the stricken managing partner bit out, “What the hell, Will?”

“It’s true,” the younger man said stoically. “She was at a bar and someone drugged her. She passed out and when she woke up after the attack, she called me. I took her to the Emergency Room.”

Julius looked between the two men, a look of shock on his face, “Oh, my god. Is she...how is she?”

“She’s recovering,” Will said firmly, “She doesn’t remember anything.”

“Did-what did—” Julius couldn’t seem to articulate what he was trying to say, “Is she hurt? I mean...she was assaulted.”

“A few bruises, some scratches,” Will replied, “Nothing permanent. She will recover fully. She just wants to move on...put it behind her and—”

“Put it behind her?” David echoed with disbelief, “Who are you kidding? They’re gonna catch the guy and she’s going to have to go to court and put that son of a bitch in jail. What—”

Julius raised a finger to stop David from adding more to his ranting and looked at Will, “She’s in the firm? Right now?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his face a mask of concern. “Is this the best place for her to be?”

“She wants...normal. She thinks she’ll go nuts at home so she went here,” Will shrugged, “I’m doing what she wants. And she wants to be here...I think she’s trying to keep busy.”

Julius looked concerned, “She doesn’t want to stay home...recuperate?”

Will shrugged, “She’s trying to distract herself with work. I’ll keep her in the building for the day so I will need you to continue running interference with the clients.”

“The police are on this?” 

“Yes, it’s an open investigation,” Will replied, “It’s early but they’re moving on it.”

“She’s going to press charges, right?” Julius asked, “When they catch the guy. We’ll make sure the bastard is punished at the full extent of the law.”

Will made a noncommittal sound, “I’d imagine as much.”

“I can have him sent to Guantanamo Bay,” David offered blandly. “Or that Supermax in the Rockies.”

“Did they catch the guy?” Julius asked, still in disbelief.

“Not yet,” Will shook his head. “I need you both to keep this quiet. Julius, I read you in because you’re a managing partner and I’m going to need you to keep things together here. David?” He sighed, “You...bad timing.”

“Gee, thanks,” the older man groused.

“How is she, Will?” Julius asked, quietly. 

“I honestly don’t know,” Will confessed heavily. “We talked. She seems okay. She had a concussion but she went home last night to her house while I was asleep...she said she’s fine.”

“Was she...” he stopped, uncomfortable. “David said...a bruise? She was beaten?”

“There were some evidence of force,” Will said slowly, delicately. “But nothing permanent. She’s moving past it.”

“Sounds like she’s in denial,” David muttered.

Will shot him a dirty look to shut him up which, surprisingly, he did.

“She can’t just move past it,” Julius said, his eyes troubled. “She has to deal with it.”

“In her own time,” Will said cautiously, “At her own pace. I need you two to work together. David?”

The older man scowled, “What?”

“Just...don’t, okay?” Will shook his head, moving out of the room. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen but our priority is Diane. We close ranks. Anyone who dares try going after her, we take them down.”

“Of course,” Julius nodded, looking stone faced with determination. “Absolutely. We’ll be here for her...for anything.”

Will gave him a nod of acknowledgment, grateful for his cooperation. He moved towards the doors, shooting the two men one more meaningful but stern look before opening the doors to leave the room.

David straightened his tie, his nose up in the air, “I’m not kidding about Guantanamo.”

Julius turned to face him with disbelief while Will simply waved a hand and made his way out of the office.

“We’ll keep that in our back pocket.”


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt McVeigh stood in front the young woman’s desk in silence.

She had seen him coming and had, in fact, been warned by the front desk he was on his way in. They hadn’t stopped him, knowing better than to try to but then that left him to the young woman who had, so far, let two people through her employer’s office doors with barely a squeak. Understandably, the young woman was feeling quite frazzled knowing she had failed to keep to her employer’s wishes of not being disturbed. And if the grapevine was accurate, those disturbances had only led to even more disturbances throughout the firm with rumors of three of the partners getting into some kind of an argument across the building.

“I’d like to see Diane Lockhart, please,” he said in a low voice.

She looked the man straight in the eyes, “I’m sorry, sir. She asked not to be disturbed.”

“It’s important,” he responded, clearly undeterred. “Tell her it’s Kurt McVeigh.”

“I know who you are, sir,” she replied. “But Miss Lockhart was quite clear she isn’t going to be welcoming visitors today.”

Kurt stood back, glancing at the closed doors that also had the blinds pulled down on them. He’d never seen her office so closed off before but then he supposed her current situation changed the way she operated in some aspects of her life. He sighed quietly, shaking his head for a moment before looking at the young woman again.

“It’s important I see her today,” he insisted though quietly. “Tell her it’s urgent.”

She gave him an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Mr. McVeigh—”

Suddenly the doors opened and Diane was standing there, her head buried in a file, “Marcy, could you—” She stopped when she realized there was someone waiting for her.

Kurt swallowed nervously. Nothing in all his years in combat could prepare him for something like this. But he pressed on anyway, clearing his throat soundlessly before saying, “Hey.”

“—give this to Cary please,” she finished simply, her eyes cold as she took in her visitor. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see how you were,” he said simply.

Her eyes flickered to her assistant who was trying very hard to be as unnoticeable as possible. She shook her head slightly before moving towards her doors. She held one open once she was inside, gesturing for him to come in without a word. She looked at the rattled young woman—clearly all this secrecy and discretion was getting to her as the men in Diane’s life didn’t seem to inclined to honor her wishes for privacy.

“Take a break,” Diane told her assistant kindly. “I’m not upset. Go ahead, Marcy. Take a break. Hold my calls until Mr. McVeigh leaves my office, please.”

Diane shut the door just as the look of relief came on the younger woman’s face. She stopped, pressing her forehead against the wooden frame for a moment before turning to face her uninvited guest. She turned in place, keeping her back to the door and kept her hands behind her, clutching at the handles.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, leaning her head forward slightly and let some tendrils of her hair fall around her face. She watched him as he stood in the middle of her office, stopping short of the chair in front of her desk.

“I just wanted to...see how you were,” he shrugged, moving towards her with his hand outstretched.

Her eyes flashed and she shook her head, fending off his advances with a look. He stopped and kept his place, respecting her silent request for distance. He stayed put and left them standing across from each other, barely meeting each other’s eyes. The air was suddenly thick with a sense of awkwardness and tension.

“After...two weeks of ignoring my calls?” she raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me while I keep myself from fainting at your feet in gratitude that you deigned to grace me with your presence.”

He couldn’t help the corners of his mouth from quirking upwards, “I deserve that.”

“Is that all?” she asked coolly, “Because if that’s it, then you should go. I have work to do.”

“Diane...come on,” he muttered, shaking his head lightly.

“No, you don’t get to say ‘come on’ to me like I was the one who disappeared!” she hissed.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said gruffly.

“Then what the hell was it like?” she burst out, choking back the words. “It was a fight! We _fight_ but I didn’t start it. You were so consumed by that damned case you were starting to scare me. And I asked you—I just asked you why it was tearing you up so much. And you _told me to get out_!”

“And you left,” he pointed out.

“Because you told me to leave,” she snapped, “You told me to leave, Kurt. So I left. Should I have stayed? Should I have waited for whatever else you might have left to throw at me?” She bit her bottom lip, “I left because we were saying things we were already regretting...but not for one moment did I think it was over. Was that it?” 

“No, it wasn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t over...not by a long shot.”

“So...why?” she asked, her eyes welling up with tears. “I called...I sent messages. Nothing. Suddenly, I wasn’t worth your attention and somehow, it was _my fault_ for caring.”

“I wasn’t ready for that,” he tried to explain, “I wasn’t used to having someone in my life...like that.”

“So the solution was to push me out? To ignore me?” she shook her head, her chin falling to her chest. “A year, Kurt. We were together for a year...and that’s how little I meant to you?”

He looked at her, “You mean...a lot to me.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” she gritted out, “Otherwise you wouldn’t have ignored me the way you did so easily.” She shook her head, “Get out, Kurt...just go.”

“Diane, please,” he moved towards her. “You can’t mean that...you need someone you can lean on right now...after what you’ve been through.”

“That’s it?” she choked out, “This is why you came back...because I was hurt? You didn’t seem to care when _you_ were doing the hurting. What, you can hurt me but other people can’t?” 

He looked like she struck him for a moment. “You—” he stopped, swallowing harshly. “Don’t you ever say that again.” His eyes softened, “You know that’s not true.”

“Did you even care what happened to me?” she asked, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Or did you only care when you heard I’d gotten hurt?” She shook her head, a sardonic smile playing across her lips, “What do you know about my _case_ , Commander McVeigh?” She made her way across the room, passing him with barely a glance and made her way towards her desk. “Did you hear that I was drunk out of my mind? That I was too fucking out of it to even remember my own name? What makes you think it _was_ rape? For all you know, I was just out there trying to forget you ever existed in my life.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he closed his eyes, clenching his fist at his side. “Damn it, Diane.”

“What makes you think there was even a case?” she asked over her shoulder. “Does it matter, commander? Would it matter if it was really rape? For all you know, I took him to my car and let him have his way with me to get you—”

“Stop it!” unable to help himself, he reached for her. His hand circled her forearm and turned her around to face him. He saw her eyes flash at being manhandled but he persisted and moved his hands to her shoulders. “Do you hear what you’re saying? Stop it.”

“Or what?” she hissed, “I am _nothing_ to you.” She shrugged out of his hold and shoved him on the chest forcefully, “Don’t touch me. I swear to god, Kurt. Do not touch me.” She let out a mirthless laugh and looked at him, tears shining in her eyes, “You didn’t want a damn thing to do with me two weeks ago...you don’t want a damned thing to do with me now. Not when you feel like you’ve come home to some other animal marking your territory.”

Shocked by her words, Kurt’s eyes suddenly burned and he moved towards her, stopping himself just short of grabbing her again. His skin was crawling defensively, with horror, at the visual she created for him. He moved his head sharply, keeping their faces close as his jaw twitched and his pulse kept racing. He resisted the urge to push her back up against a wall and pin her there like he would have done with anyone who dared question his loyalty to her.

“Stop this,” he hissed at her, “Stop this. Right now.”

“I want you out of my life,” Diane snarled at him, the anger and the rage that had been building were now reaching the surface. “You’ve removed yourself from my life before, do so again and this time—don’t come back.”

Kurt shook his head, “I never left you. It wasn’t like that. I...I needed space and I’m sorry if I made mistakes. You can trust, me, Diane. I—”

Her eyes widened and burned with the intensity of her rage, “How do you expect me to trust you now when _you left_? Hmm? I can’t trust you to always be there, I can’t trust you to be with me. It doesn’t feel like you commit and you made damned sure I felt like I’m not important to you.”

“It isn’t like that!” he insisted, “It wasn’t about you. I’m sorry if I let work get to me but—”

“You left,” she pushed at his chest, gritting her teeth and feeling as if she were repeating the same argument. “You showed me exactly how little you cared about me when you left me. You made me feel like I was nothing...like I was just something you easily discarded because I’d become inconvenient for you.”

He felt a new wave of horror wash over him, “I didn’t mean for you to feel like that!”

“Well, I did!” she cried, the tears she swore she was done shedding for him returning with a vengeance. “You-you reduced me to some lovesick idiot who suddenly felt lost just because she was left behind...I _let_ you do that to me and now you come crawling back expecting me to trust you! After-after—” she felt a sudden tightness in her throat as her tears burned their way down her cheeks, “You sanctimonious _bastard_!”

“Diane—”

“I am _done_ being that woman,” she shoved him on the chest again, “I am _done_ being the weak willed idiot you made me to be...I wouldn’t have been so goddamned drunk if you-if you—” she breathed in deeply, “Get out...just get out.”

Kurt felt his heart constrict, feeling powerless as she broke in front of him, unable to hold back her tears anymore but unwilling to take comfort he was trying to offer. She fell against the seat in front of her desk, bent forward at the middle and held her head in her hands. She began to weep openly, uncaring that he was there to witness her breakdown. She left him standing there at a loss, unable to leave but also forbidden to hold her.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” he said softly, moving towards her and got down on his knees in front of her. “Diane, it wasn’t...it wasn’t you. I lashed out because I didn’t know how to handle being overwhelmed by that case...a girl was dead and she just...it reminded me too much of the past that I’m _still_ dealing with.” He sighed, “I’m a broken man, Diane...and I’m sorry I never told you. There were things that happened...things that I went through when I was in combat that changed me. I’m sorry...I’m sorry I let my past hurt you.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” she asked, her face a mess of tears and heartbreak as she looked at him. “If you just...Kurt, why did it have to be this way?”

“I don’t know and I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, “I am so...sorry, Diane. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you and you got hurt.”

“I can’t-I can’t remember,” she clenched her hands over her knees, the tears pouring down her cheeks. She closed her eyes tightly, “I can’t remember...someone was inside _me_ and he-he...Kurt, he...” she couldn’t finish the sentence, letting out a devastating sob before crumpling forward once more.

Kurt felt his heart break watching her as she bent forward with her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach, nearly falling out of her chair in grief had he not been there to catch her. He gathered her into his arms as she began to sob against him, burying her face in his neck. He held her close and picked her up from the ground, carefully taking her in his arms and eased them both down on the couch. He sat down and held her, his hand rubbing her back gently as her grief and her pain poured over.

He let her cry, running his hand through her hair as she finally faced what had been done to her, what a faceless stranger had taken from her so easily and freely while he rendered her helpless and vulnerable. The grief and the rage and the heartbreak were coming together, overpowering her need for control and broke her facade of manufactured strength. 

She was broken and beaten and he was ashamed that he had contributed to all this pain she was going through. And as much as he wanted to help her fix this, he knew there was not a damned thing he could do about this. He was too late, much too late, and all he could offer her was what comfort and security he had though a part of him knew she didn’t trust him at the moment to be that person for her.

“You were such a bastard,” she sobbed against him and his arms held her tighter. “Why couldn’t you just...I wouldn’t have drank so much if you’d just...god, you’re such a bastard.”

“I know,” he whispered, holding her against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Diane. I’m sorry. I’m here...I won’t leave you again. I swear...I will never leave you again.”

He felt her body shiver against him, convulsing slightly as it tried to cope with the sudden release of pressure she was experiencing. So Kurt held on tight, saying a quiet prayer for strength and faith, asking for whoever was listening to spare her if there was still any chance to do so. He didn’t ask for absolution for his own sins, knowing even he wouldn’t allow himself to be granted one. But he asked for grace for the broken woman in his arms and in the midst of her grief, he made a vow to himself and to her.

No one would ever hurt her again, not while he still lived and walked amongst men on earth. 

And for the faceless stranger who had hurt her, Kurt asked for vengeance and retribution—and for permission to be the one to deliver them in her name.

****

**  
o0o  
**

“He’s not here.”

Myra Hobbes was standing behind the bar moodily, arranging a few bottles on the shelf. Both Miranda and Damian stood there with a couple of uniforms, asking about the still-missing in action bartender. 

“Any idea where he is? Did he make contact since last night?” Damian asked.

“You’re the cop from last night,” Myra said, nodding. “I don’t know. I think he called Tully but he’s out too. He left about ten minutes ago.”

“Where’d he go?” Miranda asked.

“He said he had something to take care of,” she shrugged. “You here to arrest Joe?”

Damian shrugged, “Just needed to ask him a few questions.”

“Well, see if you can ask him with your fist,” the white-blonde haired young woman sneered. “That little shit needs to be taken down a peg.”

“You really don’t like this guy,” Miranda observed. 

“He’s filth,” she shrugged, replacing a bottle of bourbon on the top shelf. She rolled her eyes, “He used to get all handsy with me and another girl who worked here. She left about two months ago.”

“Why’d she leave?” Damian asked.

“I don’t know,” the barmaid said, frowning. “Just disappeared. Didn’t even leave an address. She texted Tully she wasn’t coming back and that was it.”

“So...Joe gets handsy?” Miranda asked, curious.

“Used to,” Myra smirked then bent down to pull something from her boot, “Until I got myself one of these.” She waved a pocket knife at the two detectives, “Told him if he grabbed my ass one more time I’d gut him.”

Damian raised his eyebrows, “Tully know anything about him harassing you?”

“I took care of it myself,” she sniffed. “Didn’t have to get Tully into it.”

“You didn’t mention that before,” Damian said with a frown.

Myra shrugged, “You didn’t exactly ask me. I mean,” she paused, “Do I think he’s grabby? Yeah. I do. But do I think he raped that woman? Shit, I don’t know.” Her eyes widened, “You guys don’t think Joe was the one who—”

“We’re just asking questions,” Damian cut her off.

“Okay,” Miranda said, “We really need to find Joe right now. Any idea where he might be? Where he lives?”

“He lives a few blocks from here,” she pulled a small notebook out of a drawer, “Some rat-ass building.” She plopped the black book down in front of the redhead, “Here’s the address. Not sure if it’s right but that’s all I got.”

Damian copied the address and repeated it to the two uniformed cops they had with them. They all moved towards the doors to leave the bar when Miranda’s phone started to ring.

“Not a good time,” she said into the phone as she crossed the sidewalk and into their waiting vehicle.

“You’re about to get a call about loud neighbors,” Kalinda said then rattled off a now familiar address.

“That’s where we’re headed,” Miranda frowned as Damian gunned the engine, “What’s going on?”

“There’s a brawl breaking out,” Kalinda replied simply. “I don’t know about you but it looks a lot like Tully Nelson and his bartender. And it’s getting a lot less loud and a lot more physical.”

“What’s going on?” Damian asked distractedly as he drove.

“Don’t even think about going in there,” the redhead growled under her breath.

“I’m not but you probably want to get there,” Kalinda replied. “I think I saw someone throw a punch.”

“Damn it,” Miranda turned to her partner and pulled the switch for the emergency lights of their car. “Tully’s at Joe’s apartment and it’s probably gonna be ugly. We need to get there now.” She tried to return to her phone call only to realize she’d been hung up on. “Damn it, Kalinda.”

“What? What?” Damian asked again, dodging traffic and glancing at his rear view mirror quickly to see if the uniforms in the patrol cars were keeping pace. He’d started to drive significantly faster as soon as his partner switched on the lights.

“Kalinda’s watching Tully and Joe fighting at his apartment,” Miranda said absently. “She said it’s getting ugly.”

“Shit, she isn’t getting in the middle, is she?” Damian made a face. “That woman’s off her rocker.”

Miranda shook her head, pulling her gun out and checking it for a moment, “She’s staying out of it. You got a vest on?”

“Is it that bad?” he asked, surprised.

“You wanna risk it?” she shot back, scowling at him. “That little baby girl of yours probably won’t appreciate daddy with an extra hole in his body.”

“Ah, c’mon, Pacci!” Damian groused, taking a sudden left turn. “It’s two idiots fighting. We can handle it.”

Miranda shook her head, “I’m taking lead.”

“Fine,” he muttered, “I can’t wait ‘til you get knocked up and I get to boss you around.”

The redhead laughed, “It’s funny ‘cause you actually think that’s happening.”

****

**  
o0o  
**

The running water thundered in her ears like a raging waterfall. She never imagined the sound of a sink could be so loud—it was deafening. She focused on it, determined to let it drown her even just for a moment. Her elbow slammed into the cold tile counter as she leaned forward and cradled her forehead in her palm. She then cupped her hand and splashed water in her mouth, spitting it back out into the sink distastefully.

She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to watch the water swirling down the drain. She concentrated on the sound in the small bathroom adjacent to her office, willing her knees to keep her upright. Her breakdown in her office had led to her pushing her former lover away from her and locking herself in her bathroom to get some semblance of her sanity back. She had been so sure she was ready to banish him from her life—she had been so decided. But the moment he waltzed back in with those sad eyes, she broke.

And she hated herself for it.

There had always been something about him, something that made her take a leave of her senses. It was why Will hated the thought of her keeping that particular man in her life. He _made_ her weak, made her do things she normally wouldn’t and provoked reactions within her that defied logic. If Will hadn’t gone to that conclusion yet, he will eventually. He would blame Kurt for what happened to her, for sending her so far off the rails it had led to this implosion in their lives.

She swallowed a lump in her throat, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and slowly looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were red. Whatever makeup she had piled on her face to cover up the bruise and the dark circles under her eyes were now a raging mess. It didn’t seem to matter how expensive cosmetics were—they’ll withstand rain and summer heat but somehow tears always seemed to be their inevitable undoing. She was glad she’d moved on to fashions where she didn’t feel compelled to pile on mascara like it was going out of style. She’d have no chance in hell of looking decent after this if she still did that to her face.

There was a tentative knock on the door, “Diane?”

“I’m fine,” she bit out, pulling open a cabinet for something to use to wash her makeup off. One of the benefits of practically living in the office meant she was well-stocked for anything that involved spending the night there which meant leaving her bathroom well stocked complete with spare sets of clothes, toiletries and cosmetics.

“Alright...” Kurt sounded so unusually unsure she almost had trouble believing it was him on the other side of the door. “I’m...I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Diane didn’t bother responding to that and instead willed herself to get it together and began washing her face. She avoided looking at her reflection, trying hard not to look at the bruise that was once again on full display. She did the same thing she had done that morning and only allowed herself to look when it was time to methodically apply makeup on her face to hide the evidence of her injury. She had done well hiding the bruise on her jaw, thankful it was the only visible mark on her face that she had to take care of.

She was in the middle of applying some concealer on her face when she heard raised voices in her office—not necessarily shouting but noticeably louder than normal conversation and with some effects of obvious anger. She stopped, glancing at her reflection, torn between her need to hide from the world and fear of bloodshed in her space.

Putting her brush down, she moved towards the door and opened it only to find Kurt and Will right on the other side with their hackles raised and looking not too far from pouncing—the lawyer more so than her ever stoic former lover.

“What is going on here?” she asked, stepping between the two men. 

“Just talking,” Will said though the obvious tensing of his jaw said otherwise.

Diane placed a hand on his chest, hoping the gesture would calm him, “He’s here under my permission, Will. We...needed to settle some things.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly. “Just making sure.” He looked at her closely, noting the redness in her eyes and the makeup that was suddenly undone. He could see the bruise more than before, “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” she nodded, brushing a hand over her jaw absently. “Everything’s fine.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “I need to get to court...” He shot a dirty look at the uninvited guest in her office, “Will you be alright here? I can send Kalinda—”

“I’ll be alright,” she said, glancing at Kurt briefly.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said, leaning forward slightly to make sure their eyes met. “I mean it.”

“I’m fine, Will,” she sighed. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll come by right after court,” he said then looked at Kurt darkly, “Commander.”

The way he said his rank might as well have been him saying fuck you and neither Diane or Kurt missed it. She let it go and so did he. Instead, Kurt simply nodded and tried to level his own blood pressure, “Will.”

“I’ll need to talk to you about David and Julius but it’ll have to wait,” Will said, glancing at his watch. “I’m cutting it close. If there’s a problem, I’ve got security on alert in the building.” He shot a meaningful look at the older man.

Diane nodded, “I’ll be fine, Will. I’m just rearranging my schedule and making calls. I won’t be leaving the building.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Just...yeah, I’ll see you later.”

He gave her as soft a look as he could muster in the midst of all the tenseness that was radiating off of him. Will strode out of the room, shutting the doors behind him and leaving the couple alone once more. Kurt kept his eyes on the partner as he left before looking at Diane, for a moment looking rather apologetic.

“He doesn’t like me,” he commented. It was always a silent understanding between them, one they ignored but knew to be fact. Kurt wasn’t sure what exactly it was he’d done to the younger man to have him despise him so much but he hadn’t let it get to him, not then and not now, as long as he was still welcome in her life.

Diane shrugged, “Will’s under a lot of stress.” She bit the inside of her cheek, “He’s the one who took me to the hospital and all of this just...makes him angry.”

“He’s protective of you,” he observed, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He tilted his head to the side, “That looks like it’s gotta be smarting.”

“It’s not as bad as before,” she admitted quietly and ducked back into the bathroom though this time she left the door open. There was no use hiding this particular injury now—at least, not with him. She picked up her brush and her concealer and continued on reapplying her makeup.

He watched her in silence, keeping his place by the door. 

“What do you know?” she asked without looking at him as she began to apply foundation with a different brush. 

“About...” he paused, “Nothing, Diane. Even if I wanted to look into the investigation, I can’t. It’ll jeopardize your case when it goes to court.”

“And yet, you know something,” she said as she continued to work on her jaw and then moved on to the rest of her face. “I know you, Kurt. And I know how cops react to you.”

“I wouldn’t risk your right to getting justice for anything,” he said sincerely. In the back of his mind he thought about what Aida Morales had told him about the drugs she had found. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about with her and it wasn’t his place. This was Miranda and Damian’s case and he needed to stay out of it, much as it killed him to do so.

Diane stopped, turning to face him for a moment before nodding, “Okay.”

“If you want to talk about what happened,” he began, “I’ll listen. I’m not going to force you to tell me and I’m not going to go behind your back to find out. That’s going to be up to you. Do you understand?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said quietly, biting her bottom lip and her eyes falling to the ground. “I...I don’t remember, Kurt. I sleep...I dream but I don’t remember. There are bad dreams...but mostly bad feelings and very vague flashes...I don’t remember the assault. Or who it might have been.”

“It happens,” he nodded, his eyes downcast as well.

Diane nodded slowly before turning back to her task, “I’m...I don’t feel traumatized. I feel...I don’t know how I feel but I don’t remember the violence. I remember darkness...and emptiness.” She stared at her own reflection, “I’m horrified by the marks on my body, thinking about how they got there...but I don’t remember.” She swallowed a lump in her throat, “Someone hurt me enough to leave marks but I don’t remember it.”

Kurt looked at her, ignoring the anger that had been steadily building since he’d found out she had been attacked. He needed to keep his rage at bay—he couldn’t afford to scare her that way, not after what she’d been through. He needed to be there for her though he wasn’t entirely sure how. She was processing how she felt, that much was clear, but he was now realizing just how different her circumstances were from most victims of this kind of crime.

There was no memory of the brutality inflicted upon her. And if the Aida Morales was right about what the drug tests were going to show, he wasn’t sure if she would ever remember what was done to her. Somehow, to Kurt, there was some relief from that—she would not have to see her attackers face in her dreams again and again. She wouldn’t have to remember the violence. But then he also knew who he was thinking of—this was Diane. She needed proof, she needed context and her logical mind would need to know. It had to be hard for her not knowing but Kurt had seen victims of rape relive the incident again and again—he didn’t want that for her.

“Why are you here?” 

He looked at her, finding her this time facing him. She’d done quick work covering up the mark on her face and she looked, for the most part, like her usual self. Her makeup had been reapplied meticulously and though her eyes were still a little red, it wouldn’t take long for that to go away. 

“I...” Kurt stopped, “I needed to see you.”

“No,” she started to put her things away, “I’m at work. Shouldn’t you be?”

He shrugged, “I’ve got no pending cases.”

“That doesn’t even sound remotely possible,” she said, frowning. “You _always_ have something. What’s going on, Kurt?”

He avoided her gaze and gave a lazy shrugged, “I called in sick.”

“What?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Why?”

“I have some leave that the brass have been insisting I use up,” he said then rolled his eyes when she gave him a look, “They kicked me out for the day.”

“They kicked you out...?” she asked, “Because of me?”

“No,” he shook his head, “Well, they didn’t say that. But I don’t know. I’m here. Can I just...” he stopped, frowning. “I’m here, Diane. I just want to be _here_.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning her hip against the sink. “I could just as easily kick you out of here. I really am still upset with you.” She tilted her head to the side, “And honestly, on top of everything else happening...I just don’t need to add to all of that.”

“Then don’t,” he said simply, “Let me be here...and I’ll just be here. If you don’t want me in here, I’ll just stay outside your building...or I don’t know, in the elevator.”

“Kurt...” she sighed, moving past him and stepping back into the main floor of her office. “You can’t fix _anything_...and you can’t think I’ll just welcome you back into my life because you refuse to leave.”

“A guy can hope,” he shrugged, watching her take her seat back behind her desk, leaning back against the wall next to her bathroom door. Her back was to him but he still couldn’t help but look at the ground, “Diane...I really am sorry.”

She looked at him over her shoulder with a sad look in her eyes, “I am too.”

****

**  
o0o  
**

“I already told you everything I know!”

They’d managed to pry apart the two brawling men after the two detectives managed to burst into the apartment just in time to see Tully Nelson land a solid punch right into his employee’s nose. The apartment had turned into a holy mess by then and it had taken Damian and two uniformed police officers to separate both men.

“Sure about that Joey-Joe?” Damian snarked, grinning manically at the gym rat who was holding a towel to his bleeding nose. “Why don’t you tell us about what went on here?”

“Fuck if I know,” Harris groused, “Hey, he went to my house and hit me!”

“Probably did something to piss him off,” Damian said, glancing at Miranda and Tully who were near the patrol unit’s vehicle. The owner of the bar was holding a kleenex to a cut on his brow while his partner talked to him but for a man near fifty, he held up pretty well against the thirty-five year old muscle bound bartender.

“I didn’t do nothin’!” he growled. “He’s probably been drinking. I don’t know. I’m pressing charges!”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Damian snorted. “So...we were taking a look at the tapes your boss gave us. It looked kinda weird.”

“What the fuck is this?” Harris asked, obviously rankled. “Are we still talking about that fucking blonde?”

“Yeah, of course we are,” Damian faked a happy tone, “I looked at the tapes. It looked like you were pretty pissed with her. So what’s the story there, man?”

“What?” he scowled. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. I served her the drinks, alright? You wanna know the truth? Fine. She was kind of a bitch.”

Damian’s jaw twitched, “Really?”

“Yeah, she was a Grade A bitch,” Harris answered, annoyed. “She was _always_ a bitch.”

“I thought you said she was _a pretty thing_ last we talked,” Damian pretended to look thoughtful.

Harris scowled even more, “Most of the pretty ones are bitches anyway. Who the fuck cares?”

Damian gave him an odd look, “What’d she do to you, Joe? Why did she piss you off so much?”

Harris gave him a dark look, “Acted like a high and mighty bitch like she was too good for the rest of us.”

“Too good for _you_?” he asked, curiously. “Did she turn you down?”

Harris barred his teeth menacingly, “She was a frigid bitch. Who’d want that?”

Damian smirked, “Frigid or not, man, I saw those legs. You gotta be blind not to want some of that.”

“Well, I didn’t give a shit about that, alright?” Harris looked torn then shrugged, abruptly ripping the towel from his face. There was a sizeable cut on the bridge of his nose where Tully Nelson had hit him, “She was actin’ like she was fuckin’ better than everyone else.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed, “Better than you?”

Harris grit his teeth, “What? You think I raped her?”

The detective didn’t answer and simply glared at the younger man. He thought of the bruise on Diane Lockhart’s face and the photographs of the injuries that had been left on her body. He thought about how a simple solitary night alone ended up being a piece of hell she would have to be dealing with for the rest of her life. And then he thought about how the six-foot-one gym rat could have easily overpowered someone as light as the slender blonde. 

If Joe Harris was the one who attacked her, the silently stewing detective was pretty sure she didn’t stand a chance fighting off the brute if he had attacked her that way. But she hadn’t even been given that chance to defend herself because even before the laboratory could confirm it Damian was sure she’d been drugged. Her attacker was a cowardly thug and that was was exactly the kind of scum he despised.

“Well, you aren’t really painting a good picture of yourself here, Joey-Joe,” Damian said smoothly. “Insulting her like this, serving her drinks and having access to putting roofies in them...not to mention the missing minutes from the tape and the—”

Harris blinked, “What missing minutes?”

“Oh, yeah, the tapes Tully sent back with us? It’s missing ten minutes from last call,” Damian replied, “And there was something hinky about the parking lot cameras. We’re looking into that too.”

“Hey, if there’s a problem with those tapes, I didn’t do nothing!” Harris glared intensely, “It must’ve been Tully! The whole damned thing’s in his office!”

“Yeah, but Tully left, remember?”

“He could have messed with them! Not me.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, “So how’d you know the camera wasn’t turned off?”

Harris stopped, “Huh...what?”

“How do you know the footage was messed with?” he said each word slowly as if talking to a slow child. “I mean, it could have been turned off too, right?”

“Wh...you said missing minutes,” he muttered. “How the hell else that could happen?”

“Lots of ways,” he chuckled lightly, “Problem with the recording, ran out of space, power surge...aliens...?” Damian barred his teeth menacingly, “So how exactly did’ja know the footage was messed with?” 

Harris visibly swallowed, “I just...I just know stuff.”

“Yeah, you don’t look that smart,” Damian retorted. “Anything you wanna tell me, Joey?”

“Not a fucking thing,” Harris sneered, “I’m pressing charges. He went after me, man.”

“Yeah, my heart’s breakin’ for ya,” Damian rolled his eyes, flagging over his partner. 

“How’s things going here?” Miranda said breezily and looked at Harris, “That looks bad. Do you need someone to take a look at that, Mr. Harris?”

“Fuck off,” the younger man snarled nastily.

“Hey!” Damian stepped in between the suspect and his partner, his eyes growing dangerously dark and his demeanor turning serious in a snap. He was no longer up for playing games.

“I get that fucking drunk get in my face and you’re here hassling me about some dumb cunt who couldn’t keep her legs together!” Harris growled, “So I’m gonna say fuck off if I want to!” He reared towards Miranda, jabbing a finger into her shoulder, “Get the fuck out of my face!”

“Okay, that’s it,” Damian snarled, grabbing the large man by his upper arm and twisted him until he was facing the hood of his Crown Victoria. He slammed him face down on the hood and pulled his hands behind his back with more force than necessary. “You’re under arrest.”

“Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?” Harris snarled, “You’re telling me that fucking bitch won’t admit she whored around while drunk off her ass and now she wants to call it rape?”

“Yeah, keep talking, Joey,” Damian hissed.

“What the fuck?” Harris began to struggle in his grasp.

Miranda stepped back, shaking her head lightly. Her partner was dangerous when triggered by certain things like feeling the need to step up in her defense when he felt someone was crossing the line with her. It was chauvinistic and sometimes irritating but she was used to it. On days when she felt less than generous, she would snap his head off for it but on days like today it was something she could live with.

Damian shoved the struggling brute, shooting a dark look at the uniform that tried to step in and assist him. He cuffed him easily and pulled him up, twisting him backwards until he was leaning back in an awkward angle. The more the snarling suspect fought, the more reasonable he found it to rough him up. He pulled him away the front of the vehicle and began to shove him towards the back of the car.

Harris fought on, “What the hell is going on? What’d I fucking do?”

“That stunt you just pulled? That’s assaulting a police officer,” Damian growled behind him, tightening his hold on him just a little bit more. “And then maybe we have some tampering with evidence here too. Disturbing the peace. Oh! And maybe a bit of obstruction of justice,” the detective snapped as he nodded at the uniform to open the car door for him, “I’ll slap on resisting arrest if you keep this up. That enough for you, Joe?”

Harris jerked in his grasp, “Are you fucking out of your mind? Get off me!”

“Yeah, probably but I’m not the one getting locked up,” Damian growled, shoving his head down to throw him into the backseat. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you...”

Miranda watched Damian read the man the rest of his rights and put him in the backseat of their vehicle. She shook her head slightly, a small smile appearing on her face as she looked around. They were getting some attention, including that of Tully Nelson’s who had a grim look on his face. She would have to take him in too to get his statement about the day’s events and how he came to blows with his employee. Tully had given Miranda something else to sit on and something she hoped would be additional useful evidence for their case. She had a feeling she would be making a call to the Assistant District Attorney’s office very soon.

Waiting for her partner to wrap up his arrest and send Tully Nelson with the uniformed police to escort him to the precinct, Miranda’s eyes fell to the ground. Her eyebrows shot up when she noticed the discarded square stained towel covered in blood. She glanced at their vehicle, looking at Harris who was still trying to raise hell while cuffed in the back of the car. Slowly, a small smirk began to appear on her face, shaking her head lightly as she motioned for one of the uniformed officers to come forward. 

From across the street in a parked black SUV, dark eyes followed her movement with a ghost of a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

Will looked up just as Kalinda entered his office, notebook in hand.

“They have a suspect,” she said without preamble, stopping short of his desk.

“Already?” Will asked, putting his pen down and looking past her for a moment to the sealed doors across from his office. “Who is it?”

“The bartender,” she answered, “A Joseph Harris. Been working there for the past four months.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” he shrugged, “Diane mentioned there was a bartender who took an interest in her...is this him? She said he was around her age.”

“Probably talking about the owner—a Tully Nelson,” she answered, “Harris is thirty-five years old. But they did bring in the owner of the bar with him.”

Will’s face hardened, “They both—”

“No,” Kalinda cut him off quickly, “They were in the middle of a fight when police came by to question Harris at his house. They brought Nelson in to get his statement. The evidence is still pointing to just one attacker. Not two.”

His jaw relaxed, “Did you see him? This guy?”

“I have a picture,” she said, pulling her phone out and handed it to him.

He frowned at the DMV photo on the screen, “This him?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “No prior arrests. Clean record. I’m not finished looking into it but I’m not seeing any connection between him and Diane.”

“So it was random,” Will said, swallowing slightly. He looked up at Kalinda, “They arrested him?”

“For assaulting a police officer,” she shrugged, “If they can get his DNA and run it against their evidence and it matches, they have him. But if he lawyers up before the results...they’ll have to cut him loose.”

“What’re the chances they have the wrong guy?”

“It’s an open investigation,” she raised an eyebrow, “Anything can happen.”

“But do they have anything on him?” he asked, frowning and handed her back the phone.

“Some but nothing solid yet,” Kalinda answered, “They’re questioning him right now.”

He looked at her, “They letting you in on that?”

“I’ve been advised not to in case it becomes a conflict in court,” she smirked lightly, “But I’ll be getting updates.”

Will gave her a look, “If this is him, K...we can’t let him run loose.”

“He won’t,” she shrugged, “Pacci and Boyle are the best at what they do. If it’s him, they’ll get him.”

Will nodded, pushing his seat back from the table and stood up, “Come on.”

“You’re showing this to Diane?” she asked, surprised.

“Might jog her memory,” he mumbled past her. 

She turned in place, looking at him passively, “What about Kurt?”

Will shrugged, “Either he gets out or he can shut up. I don’t care.”

Kalinda followed him across the hall, standing just behind him as he knocked on the doors and opened them swiftly. They found Diane at her desk, working on her laptop while Kurt was seated on the couch. There were containers for take out on the desk and coffee table from their lunch. Diane’s food looked as if it was only half eaten while Kurt’s empty takeout boxes sat neatly next to his half-finished drink. 

She looked up, taking her glasses off with a curious look, “Well, you two are looking grim.”

Will glanced at Kurt who had leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. Kalinda barely raised an eyebrow in his direction, a small smile appearing on her face.

“They have a suspect,” Will said, ignoring the member of the law enforcement in the office.

“Already?” Diane asked, surprised. “Who?”

“The bartender,” Kalinda placed her phone on her desk in front of her. “Does he look familiar to you?”

“No,” Diane said, frowning as she looked at the photograph, “This...it’s him?”

“Do you remember him from last night?” Will asked, “He was behind the bar.”

Diane closed her eyes, “It’s all...blank, Will. I remember getting there. I remember drinking a couple of shots...I don’t remember who served them to me.” She opened her eyes, looking troubled. “I don’t know.”

“He talked to you,” Kalinda said slowly, “In the bar. He served you drinks and he said something. It looked like it upset you. Do you remember that?”

Her blue eyes showed nothing but confusion and further distress, “I...I don’t. I talked to him?”

“Yes,” Kalinda said, “I saw the surveillance videos. He spoke to you and it upset you. It looks like you had words and it made him angry.”

“I...I don’t remember any of that,” her eyes darted to where Kurt was sitting then towards Will. “I can’t remember anything...” she held her head in one hand, “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Kalinda and Will exchanged a look and Kurt quietly stood up from where he was seated. He moved around her desk and knelt beside her on her seat and took her hand in his.

“Whoever did this made sure you wouldn’t remember a thing,” he said quietly to her, ignoring the other two in the room. “It’s not your fault, Diane. Do you understand?”

She looked at him, her eyes full of guilt and shame, “If I hadn’t been drunk, I—”

“You were drugged,” Kurt said firmly, his eyes firmly looking into hers. “Doesn’t matter if you had one glass of punch or a bottle of bourbon. If the drink was tainted, you would have been incapacitated anyway. This is not your fault. Do you understand? Tell me you understand.”

Diane nodded, biting the inside of her cheek, “I do. I understand.”

“Good,” he nodded, “This isn’t your fault. Whoever did this, it’s their fault. Not yours.”

“But—”

“It’s not your fault,” Kurt squeezed her hand lightly and she nodded, so unnaturally meek though understandably so with all the emotional turmoil she was going through on and off throughout the ordeal. Even she was beginning to get tired of the sudden shifts in her mood and thinking but she was also beginning to be resigned to the fact that, for now, things were just the way they are. She knew of course she would have to find a way to deal with this in time but not now. 

There was so much to deal with and she knew if she didn’t get her footing right, she was going to slip up and drown in all of it. So instead of fighting it, she allowed herself to take comfort from the man who could so easily give it to her even in times of great distress. Kurt’s stoicism was proving to be quite the antidote she needed for the lack of stability she was feeling with herself. This didn’t surprise her though—she never denied she needed him as much as she wanted him in her life.

Kalinda looked at Will who was avoiding looking at the couple. His darkened eyes were staring at some point over their heads, right at the wall. He was so still like a statue, like he was trying to be anywhere but there. She knew Will had always been opposed to this particular relationship though she could never quite understand why. Yes, the spectacularly ugly reveal of their relations in open court while in the middle of Will’s case had been quite the bombshell but it hadn’t affected it as badly as it could have. 

Will had won that case, despite the opposition’s attempt to distract the jury with a sex scandal. Kalinda didn’t think something like that would permanently blacken someone in Will’s book but somehow, with Kurt McVeigh that had been the case. But then she considered maybe Will was a little more than overprotective of his partner, more so now after the incident. That had always been something between the two name partners, but Will had never quite reacted to a beau of Diane’s the way he had with Kurt and it was beginning to make Kalinda wonder about her boss.

Kurt nodded, standing up and placed a hand on Diane’s cheek for a moment before pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re alright,” he whispered into her hair before straightening up and placing a hand on her shoulder to stand next to her.

Shifting her footing slightly, Kalinda stepped towards the desk, “Joseph Harris. Does that sound familiar?”

“It doesn’t,” Diane said, looking up at her. “Should it be?”

“I was informed when they spoke with Harris he was talking like he knew you personally,” she said. “He said something about not being good enough for you.”

“Good enough? For me?” the blonde’s eyes widened, “I...How? I don’t know him, Kalinda. I don’t know anyone by that name. And I don’t remember him from that night.”

“So you can’t think of any motive for this person to attack you?”

“Do I think I did something bad enough to this man to warrant having him drag me into my car and raping me? No,” the sudden burst of anger lit a flame in her eyes, replacing the distress in a snap. “I don’t know him, Kalinda. And if he thinks he knows me...he’s either insane or he has me mistaken for someone else.”

Kalinda nodded, “I’ll look into this. I’m going to be looking into everyone you’ve come in contact with the last six months and see if there’s anything linking you and Harris together. If I find nothing, I’ll go back further.”

“Do that,” Diane responded icily. “They brought him in?”

She ignored the way the blonde’s mood towards her suddenly changed, “They arrested him.”

Kurt looked at the younger woman, “They arrested him already?”

“Yes,” Kalinda looked at him, “For assaulting a police officer.” 

“He assaulted the cop?” he asked, surprised.

The corners of her lips curled up, “He jabbed Pacci on the shoulder and Boyle made the arrest. To be fair, it was a pretty strong jab...with his finger.”

Kurt thought for a moment before nodding resignedly, “Yeah, that sounds like those two.”

“But will he confess...I doubt it,” Diane said quietly. 

“Maybe but they’re going to try and make him say other things,” Kurt said to her in a low voice. “They’re good at what they do, Diane. If it’s him....they’ll get him.”

Will looked between the two then at Kalinda, “Can we have the room? I need to talk to Diane.” He looked squarely at Kurt and made it clear he wasn’t asking.

“Sure,” Kurt said, squeezing Diane’s shoulder gently before moving towards the doors, “I need to make a call anyway.” He gave Kalinda a knowing look—he was well aware of her friends in the precinct. “And I’m guessing you have some calls to make too, Miss Sharma.”

Kalinda shot him a grin and headed out the room with Kurt trailing behind her. Both of them already had their phones out and they made sure to close the doors behind them, leaving the partners alone together. Diane looked at Will, her head tilted to the side slightly while he stood still in front of her across the desk, his jaw tense.

“Yes, Will?” she said, keeping her voice neutral.

“So...not broken up after all?” he asked after a beat.

Diane thought for a moment, “I don’t know. I have missed him but...”

He looked at her, his irritation fading for a moment when he noticed the troubled expression on her face surface once more, “What’s wrong?” He took the seat in front of her desk, unbuttoning his jacket to avoid wrinkling his suit.

She sighed, “We weren’t broken up. But we had a fight...we hadn’t spoken in two weeks and it was bad, Will. But I did miss him. I still do,” she frowned, pausing. “Then... _this_. I don’t want him being with me just because he feels sorry for me. Or out of guilt or some false sense of obligation.”

Will looked at her, surprised. He’d never quite seen Diane Lockhart insecure before and he didn’t like it. His first instinct was to get upset, to pin this on Kurt for doing this to her. But then he caught himself, reminding himself that this shift in Diane’s personality was most likely not his fault. The separation might have made her feel unsettled but it was _the incident_ that was doing this to her. It was just one of the many after-effects of the events that past and it bothered Will. He didn’t like seeing her that way at all. She wasn’t the Diane he knew and cared for.

“He came by my place yesterday while you were in the shower,” Will said, noting she didn’t seem surprised by that. “He asked to see you. He was actually very persistent, I had to threaten to call the cops on him.” 

“You threatened to call the cops on...Kurt?” Diane asked, frowning. “How do you think that would have played out?”

“Didn’t really care,” he smirked, “And neither did he because as much as it pains me to say it...he cares about you. He might have things to answer for but he cares.”

She looked at him with hooded eyes, “You hate him.”

“Hate is a strong word,” he said slowly, “He’s not...he’s just not someone I’m used to seeing you with.”

She sighed, “Why do you dislike him so much, Will?”

“I don’t know,” he retorted almost childishly, “He bugs me.”

“What?” her eyes widened, “He bugs you. That’s it?”

“No,” Will drawled out, “I mean...he’s a cop, Diane. Seriously.”

“What’s wrong with that?” she asked, chuckling.

“You’re opera,” he shrugged, “He’s...mime show at the park.”

“Mime show?” Diane burst out with a laugh, “Oh, Will...”

“What? I’m serious,” he made a face, “He’s...like the exact opposite of you. And don’t you say opposites attract.”

“They do, actually,” the blonde smiled serenely, “If I stay with him I would really like it if you two got along better.”

“We’ll see,” he shrugged, keeping to himself that he didn’t think for one second that her staying with the man was still an _if_ situation. He knew her well enough to see when she had her mind made up and she wanted something. “But you might regret that. We could end up being so close we wind up looking like a buddy cop show.”

Diane laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of her office joyfully which in turn made Will smile. Yes, Kurt McVeigh had a lot to answer for and maybe he was going to be around more than Will liked but he knew for a fact he couldn’t make Diane laugh like he could. And as far as he was concerned, cop or no, if the good Commander messed up again he would have Will to answer to and not even Diane would be able to save him from that.

“You’re going to be fine, Diane,” he said after her laughter started to fade, “You have us. We care about you. At least on that front, we can agree on.”

Diane nodded, thinking for a moment, “I won’t lie and say he didn’t hurt me...but he brings me comfort.” She smiled meekly, “Even now after being apart. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know.”

“There you go,” Will nodded, “I’m not saying I approve of this relationship but, you know, if he makes you...” he visibly tried his best not to scowl, “ _happy_...then okay.”

“You really don’t approve,” she laughed, “Oh, Will...you are sweet. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Let’s hope you’ll never have to find out,” he said, smiling softly at her. “I’m gonna have Kalinda keep working on this, okay? Don’t bite her head off. She’s helping.”

“I know,” Diane nodded, “I’m just being...prickly, I guess. I’ve been moody...it’s so irrational but it keeps happening.” She sighed, running the tip of her finger on the frame of her glasses on her blotter, “I’ll talk to her later.”

Will shrugged, “She knows the mood swings come with the territory. You’re allowed some latitude there.”

“I’ll do my best not to abuse it,” she murmured, leaning back in her seat and began twisting the ring around her right middle finger. The lightness she was feeling started to fade and she looked deep in thought for a moment, “You talked to David?”

Will took a deep breath before nodding slowly, “I did. And yes, he knows. And so does Julius. I had to tell them...to make sure they understand and prepare them—avoid nasty surprises in case the story breaks.” He waited for some kind of a negative reaction, holding his breath.

Diane breathed in through her nose, closing her eyes for a moment then slowly she began to nod, “I understand.” She looked at him squarely, “How...how did they take it?”

“They’re...concerned,” he chose his words carefully, “Not about your capacity in the firm, I don’t want you to worry about that. But they are worried about you. David is ready to pull strings to get whoever did this to you into Gitmo.”

“Yes, that sounds like David,” she said then bit her bottom lip. “How much do they know?”

“Bare bones,” Will said simply, “I didn’t give them details and they didn’t ask. They just want whoever did this to be caught and locked up.”

“Of course,” she murmured, looking away.

He waved a hand slightly, “Julius will continue to assist with your clients and cases. David Lee is being David Lee.”

“Should I start worrying about them walking on eggshells around me?” she asked dryly.

“Julius maybe,” he answered, recalling the meeting on the other side of the building, “David...no, not really.” He shook his head, “It’s David. I’d say expect anything.”

Diane ran a hand through her hair, exhaling through her mouth, “It’s going to come out, isn’t it, Will?”

“I don’t think we can avoid that,” he responded honestly, “The firm will be behind you, Diane. Whatever happens, you know that, right?”

She sighed, “It’s going to be a mess...and it makes me angry.”

“As well you should be,” he retorted, “Anger is good.”

“In some cases, yes,” she said, holding her head in one hand. “I’m sorry about this.”

Will leaned forward in his seat, “This isn’t your fault. Kurt was right about that.” He scowled, hating that he had to give credit to the man—he really needed time to get used to him being a permanent fixture in their lives. “Whether you were drunk or not, if there was a roofie in your drink, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“I know,” she muttered, “But if I didn’t go out to begin with—”

“He’d have done it to someone else,” he cut her off, “People like that are scum. You’re stronger than that and we’re going to beat him and make sure he won’t be able to do this to someone else again.”

“Saving the world one criminal at a time,” Diane said with a small humorless smile only to have it fade into a more perturbed look, “I can’t remember anything and it’s tearing me apart inside.” She closed her eyes, “I don’t know who that man was...I don’t remember anything.”

He nodded, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“A part of me wants to remember,” she said quietly, “But another part of me is just relieved I don’t remember what he did to me. Is that so terrible?”

Will couldn’t help the sadness that came over him, “I think it’s human.”

****

**  
o0o  
**

“This is bullshit!”

“Alright, Joey,” Damian said petulantly, “Why don’t you tell me your side of the story now?”

“My side is my douchebag of a boss came to my house and hit me in the face,” Harris snapped. “That’s my side of the story. Now you do your job and lock him up!”

“Well, that’s pretty cut and dry,” the detective nodded, “But we already know about that one. I was talking about the other thing, ya know...the blonde?”

Harris sneered, “What are you? Senile? I already told you everything I know.”

“Yeah, but I have so much fun talking to you, I just wanna hear the story again,” Damian grinned, “Come on, Joe...it’s not like you got places to be. I mean, after today I think it’s safe to say you’re out of a job.”

“Shit job anyway,” Harris muttered, “Look, what do you wanna know?”

“Just what happened that night,” he answered simply.

“I told you what happened,” the bartender said insistently, “She came to the bar. She ordered a couple of drinks. Then she ordered about twenty more. She got wasted. I closed the bar. I didn’t see her leave and I didn’t do anything to her.” 

Damian raised an eyebrow, “You overserved her?” 

“Hey, she wanted it.”

“Didn’t bother you how she’d be getting home messed up like that?”

“Fuck man, what do I care? She coulda taken a cab for all I care,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m a freaking bartender, man. Not a fucking nanny.”

“I hear ya,” the detective nodded, “Did you give her back her keys?”

“What?” Harris asked.

“Tully took her keys not long after she got to the bar—you told me that and it’s on camera,” Damian pointed out, “But when she woke up after her assault, her keys were there which would make sense because the pervert who attacked her wouldn’t have been able to get her in the car without her keys. So, did you give her back her keys?”

“Maybe Myra gave them to her, I don’t know.”

“No, not Myra. She doesn’t even remember our victim,” the detective said, “She also said she never took or returned any keys from anyone that night.” He shrugged innocently, “So if it wasn’t Myra and Tully wasn’t there...that leaves you with access to the drawer where the keys are usually kept.” 

“Check the tapes, it wasn’t me,” Harris insisted.

“We would but it’s missing ten minutes and that’s something we gotta ask you about too,” Damian feigned confusion, “See, now this is something really weird because you know what Tully told us? Seems like your boss installed cameras in his back office...where the main controls of the surveillance tapes are.”

“Wh-what?” Harris stopped scowling and suddenly looked confused.

“Yeah, funny, right? Like some Big Brother shit going on,” the detective chuckled, “So Tully checked his tapes of his office from that night...you know what he saw? You in the same office messing around with the surveillance tapes one hour after closing the bar. That sound familiar to ya, Joey?”

Harris swallowed hard, “I was just checking things...making sure everything was working fine.”

“So you closed the bar...and then came back one hour later to check on the surveillance equipment?” Damian said slowly, “See, that doesn’t really make sense to me, man.” He made a face, “I mean, did you go home? Because that’s just...weird, don’t you think? Tully didn’t say anything about needing the surveillance checked. In fact, that’s what seemed to tick the guy off...you went in there and messed with the equipment.”

“I didn’t do anything to the cameras!”

“Tully seems to think so,” the detective retorted breezily, “I mean, he was really pissed. Have you seen your face? Because, man, you look like hell.”

“Look, asshole, I didn’t touch the damned tapes and I didn’t touch that woman!” Harris snarled, “Maybe I gave her the keys back. I don’t know but I had nothing to do with what happened to the damned bitch, alright?”

“But that doesn’t make sense either, Joe,” Damian tilted his head to the side, “Why would you give a woman who’s drunk off her ass her keys back?”

“She seemed fine,” Harris crossed his arms over his chest.

The corner of Damian’s mouth curled up, “So you gave her back her keys.”

“Yeah. And she left.”

“Was she steady on her feet?”

“She nearly finished a bottle of tequila,” Harris pointed out.

“That a no?” Damian challenged with a sardonic smile.

“Yeah, it’s a no,” he replied obnoxiously.

“Where’d she go after? She drove away?”

Harris scowled, “I don’t know, man. She coulda taken a fucking cab.”

“She was wasted, couldn’t walk straight and drunk,” Damian listed, “And you let her have her keys back? That doesn’t seem so smart.” He smirked when he didn’t respond, “Wanna know what I think? I think you had plans of your own.”

“Wh-what plans?” his scowl faltered.

“I think you wanted to take her home,” the detective answered simply, “But she told you to take a hike.”

“What? No. That’s not what happened,” Harris said, his bravado faltering a little, “I don’t...there’s no fun sleeping with a drunk woman.”

“What about roofied women, hmm?” Damian wagged his eyebrows, “You like it better when she can’t tell you you’re just not getting it right, huh? You like them all soft and easy? Yeah, I bet it gets you hard when they can’t fight back. Right Joe?” 

“No, no...no,” Harris shook his head vehemently.

“That do it for ya? Can’t see you, can’t speak...can’t judge your, ah, performance?” he said with a goading smile, ignoring his protests. “What, got problems getting it up, man?”

Harris slammed his fists into the table, his eyes bulging and his body shaking.

“Hey, I get it...all those muscles and all that working out—heard it does things to your hardware,” the same sardonic smile spread across the detectives face, “And you know what, that’s quite the temper you got.”

“You’re pissing me off, asshole,” Harris snarled. “I didn’t slip anything into anyone’s drinks,” the younger man gritted out, his eyes red and his fists clenched on the table. “I didn’t touch the tapes and I sure as hell didn’t rape that bitch.”

Damian shook his head, pushing his chair back from the interrogation table, “I wanna believe you, Joe. Really, I do.” He stopped, tilting his head to the side, “And you know what? We can fix this. We can make this go away.”

Harris paused, watching him warily, “How?”

The detective looked at him straight in the eye, “How about letting me borrow some DNA? It won’t hurt...I’ll give it back, if you want.”

“Fuck no,” the bartender reared back in his seat.

“I mean, if you didn’t touch her...” the detective shook his head, “Shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Harris unclenched his fists, revealing fingers that were shaking uncontrollably. His eyes darted around the room and sweat began to bead on his forehead. He shook his head, looking down on his lap before facing the detective once more and in simply said, “I want a lawyer.”

Damian barred his teeth in a predatory smile.

****

**  
o0o  
**

“Think you can do something with this?”

Aida Morales smiled happily as she took the seal plastic evidence bag from her, “Like you have to ask, girl. You think this is your guy?”

“I definitely think so,” Miranda said, biting her bottom lip, “He dropped it after a fistfight.”

“Well, ya won’t need a court order for that,” the forensics expert trilled, “Okay, so I have Morgan processing those tapes. We should get answers by tomorrow. Do you have your suspect in custody?”

“For now,” Miranda sighed and began logging the piece of evidence in before starting her testing, “He hasn’t lawyered up yet. We’ll have to cut him loose before lunch tomorrow if we can’t charge him for this.”

“Tight window you have for me there.” Aida said thoughtfully, “I’ll run it against the rape kit. If it’s a match, he’s yours.”

Miranda looked worried, “Think we can make it in time before we have to release him?” 

“We can try,” Aida answered honestly, “DNA takes a while to process and I’ll try getting through the backlogs but you know that already.”

“Can’t take shortcuts on this one,” the redhead said thoughtfully.

Aida laid out the evidence on her table before snapping her gloves off and pulled out a file from under her desk, “Oh, and the results are in for the Flunitrazepam.”

“And?”

“Results came back ninety-percent positive that your victim was roofied and Rohypnol was in her system,” Aida beamed proudly. “And just to be sure, I sent a sample to a private facility. I have a friend there who owes me a solid. They tested and confirmed it one-hundred percent on Flunitrazepam. Your victim was definitely roofied.”

“That’s perfect,” Miranda said happily, “Now we just need to confirm the DNA if it’s a match.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Can you send the results to Damian too?” Miranda asked then felt her phone vibrate, “Shit.”

“What is it?” Aida asked as she began to take the blood stained towel from it’s sealed container. 

“He lawyered up,” Miranda muttered, “And it’s fucking Andrea Stevens. God I hate her.”

“You hate all lawyers,” the dark haired scientist pointed out.

“Not all lawyers,” Miranda said primly, “Does she go around looking for these pervs or is there an ad somewhere for this one? _Rapists welcome_? Like, does she enjoy defending these pieces of shit?”

“I don’t know,” Aida shrugged, “Probably. She seems to get those kinds of cases a lot.” 

“I’m really sick of going up against that one,” Miranda muttered, “She went after a kid...a goddamned kid.”

Aida winced, remembering the case clearly, “I remember that one. That guy was a fucking sicko.”

“And she tried to put him back on the street! A fucking pedophile,” the redhead muttered. “I gotta get a good DA for this case. Stevens is a slimy ass.”

“That she is,” Aida nodded, “She’s a traitor to the sisterhood.”

“I don’t think she recognizes the sisterhood,” Miranda said with a hiss, “I gotta go. Boyle’s like two inches from shoving our suspect’s face into the table and that’s really not something we need with Stevens on our asses again.”

“Yeah and he might shove that lawyer through a wall too,” Aida said, waving her off, “I’ll call you the moment I have the results. I’ll email the drug results to Boyle too.”

“Thanks, AM,” Miranda said, heading out the door. “We gotta get this guy. I feel really good about this. And I’m not letting Andrea Stevens get him back out on the street!”

“Yeah, go get him,” the forensics expert cheered on as she exited the laboratory. “For the sisterhood!”

The redhead shot the brunette a smile before disappearing through the hallway.

****

**  
o0o  
**

“Mr. Gardner, someone’s on the phone for you insisting you’ll want to speak with her.”

Will looked up, surprised to find his assistant still there, “Lydia, I thought you were going home early to see your kid?”

“I was just heading out when the phone rang,” his assistant replied by way of explanation. “She said her name is Mandy Post. She went to Georgetown with you?”

He frowned, “Mandy? Why would she be calling me?”

“She said she’ll only tell you,” she said simply, “Do I patch her through?”

Will thought for a moment, “Sure. After that, head on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gardner,” she smiled before heading back to her desk, “She’s on line one.”

“Thanks, Lydia,” he said absently as he reached for his phone. “Mandy?”

“Will?” 

“Yeah,” he said slowly, “Didn’t expect to hear from you. Heard you were at the Tribune now.”

“I am,” she replied, “I’m actually calling from work. I thought I should call you...”

“About?” he asked, curious. The last time he’d spoken with Mandy was probably seven years ago. He knew she was in Chicago but their paths had never really crossed. He’d had cases make headlines before but not ones that Mandy covered specifically. And with no cases worthy of headlines at the moment, Will was more than intrigued by the call.

“Someone sent in a tip through my office today,” she began, “I wasn’t sure if it was legit so I looked around...it wasn’t easy but I got my answer. The tip was real...and I thought I should give you a call before I go ahead with my story.”

“What story?” he asked, sitting up in his chair and dropping his pen onto his desk.

“A man was arrested today after a fistfight in his home,” she said. “It was pretty routine until he was brought in for assaulting a police officer.”

With those words, Will’s heartbeat began to escalate and his hand tightened around the receiver. He swallowed hard, willing himself to keep silent. _She couldn’t be_ , he thought to himself even as he began to hear the blood pounding in his ears.

“Now, it would seem like it’s just any other day in Chicago,” Mandy continued on the other side of the phone, “Until I found out the arresting officers weren’t just patrol in uniform who normally respond to disturbance calls. You see, this man was arrested by two members of the sex crimes unit of the Chicago Police Department.”

He felt his jaw tense, “What’s this got to do with me, Mandy?”

“Not you, Will,” her voice came smoothly over the line, “I think you know where I’m going with this.”

“I’m sure I don’t,” he said coolly even as he felt his palms begin to moisten and his collar started to feel tight.

“The man they arrested is a bartender at a local bar,” He heard her take a breath on the other end, “And my tipster said he’s being accused of sexual assault by a high profile Chicago lawyer and someone we could easily call a Liberal Lion.”

He felt his jaw slacken, “Mandy—”

“Let’s cut to the chase, Will,” she cut him off easily, “I know about the assault that happened at a local bar two nights ago. And I know it involves your partner.”

He clenched his fight so tightly in one hand his nails began to cut into his palms, “How did you—”

“Consider this a courtesy call, Will,” she said simply, “Because right now I’m gathering all the pieces I need to put together the story of a bartender being accused of rape by Diane Lockhart.”

“Aww, come on, Mandy,” he shook his head, running his hand over his forehead. “Since when did you cover beat pieces?”

“Since they involved a high profile name partner of a top tier Chicago law firm,” she answered easily, “Not to mention a popular supporter of the DNC and a known Liberal darling. And don’t even get me started on how bankable that last name is in Chicago.”

“Mandy, this isn’t...” he stopped, catching his temper for a moment. “This isn’t some sensationalist piece to sell papers with. This is my partner’s personal life.”

“I know,” she replied, “I can see it in black and white. It’s got everything...sex, drugs and—well, okay, no rock and roll but it was a bar so, you know.”

“It wasn’t some tawdry sex in a bathroom stall of a bar, Mandy,” Will grumbled. “It was rape. She was drugged...she wasn’t _on_ drugs. You can’t honestly be thinking of running this piece?”

“Someone sent this to my office, Will,” she pointed out, “Chances are, they sent it to someone else too. I’m calling to give you a chance to tell me the other side of the story. I _know_ you were the one who took her to the hospital.”

“Yes, which is how I know the truth,” he gritted out, “She was attacked, Mandy. You understand that?”

“I do, actually,” she answered simply. “Were you with her the night of the attack? Or were you there after the fact?”

Will grit his teeth, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just asking questions,” she responded, “Questions, I believe, defense attorneys _will_ ask if this goes to court.”

“You think I had something to do with it, huh, Mandy?” he growled under his breath. “Maybe this is the kind of piece you deserve...sensationalist crap full of innuendo and blatant lies.”

“Hey, back off,” she said coldly. “I called _you_. I didn’t have to, but I did. You think that was bad? Wait until someone actually writes that on another paper!” She sighed, “I didn’t mean anything with that, Will. I’m just asking questions. It’s my job.”

“Yeah, well, your job sucks,” he rolled his eyes.

“And yours is a peach,” she muttered, “Whoever else has the story won’t be as generous, Will. I’m willing to listen.”

Will breathed in deeply, rubbing his temples and closing his eyes tightly. He knew Mandy—at least, remembered how she was in college. She was successful and what he knew of her work showed she didn’t go for tawdry cheap shots for a byline like a lot of reporters these days. She did her work well even back when they were still studying. He took a few deep breaths, willing his temper to settle before nodding absently.

“You can’t publish her name,” he murmured. “You know that.”

“I can, actually,” she retorted, “But I’m not that sleazy. I need to know the story though. I have my sources but that doesn’t guarantee the whole picture. I won’t quote you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Will sighed, “For god’s sake, Mandy. She’s been through enough.”

“And she’s going to be going through a hell of a lot more if this story breaks and you aren’t controlling the narrative,” Mandy insisted, “I actually like Diane, you know. She does a lot of good for the city. And she’s not a raving bitch when it comes to the press. I’ll work with you if you work with me.”

Will thought for a moment, looking through the glass doors of his office towards the set of doors across from his. He was in a rock and a hard place and he was very much aware of it. He would like to know who was the bastard leaking the story but he couldn’t deal with that while dealing with a reporter. He knew Mandy Post. She was like a dog with a bone and even if Will didn’t agree to work with her, she would find some other way to give more meat to her story. David Lee was right. The story was going to get out one way or another but maybe Will could have some semblance of control over it.

Diane would not like it, he was sure. But at this point, they didn’t have many choices left. He couldn’t put her in front of a reporter. And he couldn’t be the one to betray her trust. But this wasn’t a betrayal. He was trying to protect her and the best way to do that now was consider an alliance of sorts with someone who can actually help him take control. He sighed, swallowing hard and looked away from the office across the floor before pressing the receiver back against his ear, taking a deep breath for a moment before deciding on the best course of action.

“When do you go to press?”

****

**  
o0o  
**

The rest of the day had been spent in her office.

She kept herself distracted throughout the day, forcing herself not to think about what Kalinda had found. She also tried to block out the face from the photo she’d been shown. Diane couldn’t dwell on it, not when whatever drug she had been slipped seemed to guarantee the loss of her memories. She needed to get her work done, get right back on track knowing if she kept herself out of the game longer, things were going to spin out of control and it would only hurt the firm. She tried to accomplish as much as she could from within the walls of her office, communicating mostly through emails with her associates and her colleagues.

David Lee and Julius Cain kept their distance from her and she wasn’t sure if that was them trying to give her space or the beginning of the awkwardness she would have to face once the whole sordid affair got out. They sent her emails and communications throughout the day, not acknowledging the information Will had shared with them and they continued their correspondence as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Diane took comfort from that, knowing it would not last long. 

She’d had to make several calls throughout the day, faking cheerfulness and enthusiasm just to placate her more temperamental clients who felt snubbed by her disappearance from the day before. It had reached a point where her jaw had begun to ache and ended with her begging her assistant for some coffee.

Kurt had not returned after her private meeting with Will. She had shrugged it off, deciding he’d have to have been called away for work or something of the sort. It was an inevitable of sorts with him, more than used to watching him have his days off interrupted as he was every bit the workhorse she was. It didn’t help matters that he was running one of the best major crimes unit in his precinct with a high success rate of closing cases. He was good at his job and he earned every ounce of respect from his peers. It wasn’t his military career that earned him that level of respect. He was a damned good detective and an even better commander. His training in the military ensured that and the rest was all his hard work and tenacity.

He didn’t talk about his military career. Diane had found out things with Kalinda’s help—nothing too personal but mostly his career information before becoming a member of the Chicago Police Department. She knew his rank as a member of the United States Marine Corp and where he served. She knew he was wounded in battle and was given a Purple Heart as well as a Silver Star. She also knew he was a well-decorated Marine that included the distinguished Medal of Honor. She didn’t ask him about them and she didn’t take Kalinda on her offer to find out just exactly what Kurt McVeigh had done to receive the highest award in the armed forces for valor in action against an enemy force during his service. She had seen his scars—there weren’t many but they were deep and lasting. They spoke of untold horrors that led him into spilling his blood for his countrymen as a member of the armed forces.

The fact that he was willing to admit that the divide in their relationship was caused by his issues from his past was a testament to how desperately he wanted to explain himself. There were stories there of the darkness he always kept from her and she knew he always meant to keep them from her. But it had nearly torn them apart and it had led to these events that they were now having to deal with. She had been irresponsible yes, but her emotional distress could easily be traced back to him and his reluctance to open up to her and led to his shunning of her. They both played a part in the near dissolution of their relationship but if Kurt was willing to mend the break then Diane was ready to meet him halfway.

So lost in thoughts of him she had been, Diane didn’t notice her office doors open once more. She looked up as Kurt entered her office quietly and closed the doors behind him. He’d been gone for the better part of the last three hours and he looked apologetic for his absence as he strode across the room.

“Hey,” he said simply, rounding her desk and gently placed something on top of her blotter next to her hand. “Here.”

“What is this?” she asked, eyeing the brown paper bag. “I hope it’s not food.”

“It’s not food,” he said, taking a seat from across her desk once more. “Talked to the forensic team at work. They’re working their way through evidence from your car. You said you thought you lost your wallet?”

“I did,” she said, picking up the package and unwrapping it. She raised her eyebrows when she found her wallet inside, clean and intact, “Oh, thank god.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “They found it in your car. They processed it so they did me a favor and expedited the release. They had no reason to hold it...didn’t have anything on it so you can have it back.”

“I really didn’t want to add to the insanity of replacing my cards and going to the DMV,” Diane muttered, checking the contents of her wallet. “Everything seems to be here.”

“That’s good.”

She gave him a grateful smile, “Thank you, Kurt.”

He shrugged, “Doesn’t make sense to leave you without it anyway.”

“They’re still not asking you back?” she asked, curious. “You went to your precinct?”

“I just made a call,” he said simply, “Got someone to drop this off for me here.”

Diane was well aware of how respected he was in his precinct and how he seemed to inspire loyalty among his colleagues. He had the cleanest record a law enforcement official could have in Chicago which was impressive in and of itself considering how the dark city tended to get. He seemed almost too good to be true, if she didn’t know him as well as she did which was one of the reasons why she allowed herself to fall for him. He was a good man and it showed in his work and how he treated people around him. He just really sucked at relationships though, much like her but he seemed no better at it than she.

She checked her watch, “It’s almost time to go home.”

Kurt nodded, “I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, not sure why she was feeling shy all of a sudden. This was just the man she’s spent the last year with. She felt a little foolish.

“I want to,” he responded, “If you’d let me.”

“Kurt...” she tried not to be too hard on the man. He really was trying and all the talking was probably making him feel a little out of sorts by now. 

“I’m here, Diane,” he said quietly, “I’m right here.”

She paused, thinking for a moment before nodding. She smiled softly at him, tapping her pen on her blotter lightly. “Okay. I just need to finish up a few things and then I can leave.”

He smiled, “I dropped by the store and picked up some things. You had take out for lunch so I thought I’d cook us something for dinner.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Rosemary chicken,” he answered, “With some mashed potatoes and vegetables.”

It was only then she realized she’s missed his cooking and for the first time since _the incident_ , she felt her appetite coming back found herself actually looking forward to eating. Diane couldn’t help but smile, “That sounds really nice.”

And it did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains strong language and scenes depicting violence.

“We’re gonna have to cut him loose.”

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“His lawyer is making noise and she’s not even fucking here yet,” Miranda glared at the papers in her hand, looking through bar tabs and other information on The Foxhole. “We need to find something to hold him on. And get a warrant for his place.”

“The missing underwear?”

“Yeah,” Miranda sighed, “The DNA hasn’t come in yet and Aida is already put a rush on it but the backlogs can’t be helped.” She shook her head, “Unbelievable.”

Damian growled, “Are you saying we’re putting a fucking rapist back on the street because the labs are too fucking slow?”

“It’s not the lab’s fault,” Miranda pointed out patiently, “We’re not exactly short on crimes. They’re having trouble keeping up. We’re lucky we have the Rohypnol. Do we have any idea if he had any access to them yet?”

“Not yet,” Damian was on his computer and he was two inches from putting his fist through it, “It’s him, Pacci. You _know_ he did it. You saw that interview. That fucking creep raped her.”

“I know,” Miranda sighed.

“What about the tapes in Tully Nelson’s office?” Damian asked, remembering the tapes that had been surrendered while he’d been in interview with the suspect.

“Not enough for a warrant,” the redhead answered, “He’s messing with stuff on the tape but his back was to the camera and we can barely see what he was doing with them. We still need to confirm if those tapes were actually tampered with. What we really need the DNA. We get him on that and the roofie and he’s ours.”

Damian swore under his breath, “This is bullshit, Pacci. This is a slam dunk. We got the guy and the victim did everything right. She’s giving us the guy and we’re letting him go!”

“Keep looking, Boyle,” Miranda insisted, “Just...find something to nail this guy with before he destroys whatever evidence he forgot he had.” She flipped through another set of papers, “We let him go home, we lose whatever evidence he has there...he wasn’t careful. He had to have let things slip.” 

“That slimy little shit will destroy evidence while we’re sitting on our asses waiting for fucking lab results,” Damian spat nastily.

Miranda’s phone vibrated on her desk and her eyes darkened when she read the text, “His lawyer’s here.”

“Already? That fucking...goddamn it!” Damian shot up from his seat, “You deal with that witch!”

“Where are you going?” Miranda asked, frowning as she stood up and grabbed her gun and badge, “Boyle!”

“To the fucking bar,” he snarled. “I’m gonna find something to nail that son of a bitch with!”

****

**  
o0o  
**

Will was waiting for her by the time she arrived the next morning.

“You’re here early,” Diane smirked, breezing through her doors dressed in a deep purple dress that hugged her curves nicely and with a pair of black peep toe pumps.

“And I’m surprised to see you’re arriving alone,” he returned with a small grin, “I’d have thought your bodyguard would have himself attached to your hip still.”

“He is not my bodyguard,” she rolled her eyes as she took her phone out along with her iPad before slipping her bag into one of her drawers. “He’s out parking his truck.”

Will snorted, “Of course.” He straightened his tie and took the seat across from her desk, “Actually, I do need to talk to you alone...it’s a delicate subject.”

Diane gave him a look as she took a seat behind her desk, “What is it?”

“I got a call yesterday after you left,” he said, glancing behind him to make sure the doors were closed. Her office was back to being the fishbowl it was, the heavy drapes pulled back out of the way but the doors at least afforded them the privacy he needed for this particular conversation.

“A call?” she asked, curious. “From whom?”

“Mandy Post,” Will answered, observing her to see if she would recognize the name. When she obviously didn’t he continued, “We went to Georgetown together. She works for the Tribune.”

She raised an eyebrow, “She’s a reporter.”

Will nodded, “Yes. She was calling about...the incident. It was a courtesy call to let us know she has the story.”

Keeping her composure, Diane swallowed hard before speaking in an even tone, “How did she get it?”

“Someone left an anonymous tip,” he said quietly even though they had the room to themselves. “I’ve got Kalinda on it to find out who leaked it, but Mandy has enough for a story.”

“So...it-it’s in the papers? Today?” Diane asked, her eyes clouding slightly and she sat very still with her hands clasped together on her desk. 

“Not today,” Will shook his head, “I talked to her. She’s willing to hold off on the story for a couple of days.”

“Then...why?” she asked, frowning. “This is a private matter, Will. And who would leak something like this? I am not a public figure...and I don’t understand why this is considered news in Chicago!”

He raised a placating hand in front of him, “I know, I know,” he said calmly. “But she thinks you popularity in Chicago is significant enough for this to make news.”

“I don’t want to be a goddamned headline, Will,” she gritted out. “This...shit. It’s going to go public...the case, the trial—fuck,” her eyes widened and she placed her hand over her mouth. She leaned back in her seat, trying very hard to calm herself enough to keep her breathing steady.

Will leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. They were right back where they were the day before, sitting across from each other and feeling like there were just too many things spinning out of their control. 

“I talked to Mandy,” he reiterated, “She’s going to work on her story and she will make sure it’s not a smear job...Diane, she thinks whoever gave her the tip might have also given it to someone else.” He folded a hand over one set of curled knuckles, pressing his chin against them, “Can you think of anyone who would go after you like this?”

Diane shook her head, “No...I can’t. Who would be cruel enough?”

“Well, there’s gotta be people who hate us enough to play dirty,” Will muttered. “But Mandy is going to hold the story for a couple of days. We have time.”

“To do what?” she asked, her eyes wide with alarm. “To do what, Will? Wait for the hammer to drop? For me to crack? What exactly are we waiting for? Two days or today, either way it’s getting out!”

Will shook his head slightly, “I’m thinking...but Mandy won’t let this story go and she’s sure if someone doesn’t have it yet, they will eventually.” He sighed, “You knew there was a possibility this was going to get out.”

“I did...but,” she stopped, “I hoped...naively. But I hoped it wouldn’t.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “We’re not catching any breaks right now...but we will.”

“I need to do something,” she murmured, “I can’t be seen hiding or backing down from this. I need to...I need to—”

Will frowned, “Need to what?”

Diane looked at him, “I need to get ahead of this, but I’ll need help.”

“Ahead of what? How?” Will frowned, “We can talk to the clients, Diane. This won’t affect how we work. We can make assurances and—”

“It’s not just about the clients, Will,” she said, reaching for her phone. “We can’t be seen as weak...I can’t look like I’m not capable of performing my duties because of this.”

He looked confused for a moment, “What are you thinking?”

“I need this to be handled properly,” she said shakily, “We have clients other firms will kill for and you know they will use this to make us look weak. I can’t let that happen.”

“And you can fix this by making a call?”

She flicked her eyes at him, “Yes. We’re going to get the help we need and we’re going to get through this. I’m not losing anything else to the bastard who did this to me.” She set her jaw stubbornly, “I’m done letting things happen to me, Will.”

He recognized that anger that was becoming familiar to him, “That’s...that’s good.”

“We need someone who will handle this so we can do our damned jobs,” she said shortly.

“Is this anyone I know?” he asked, curious.

Diane shrugged, “I doubt it. We went to college together and she’s been in Washington for most of her career but...” she stopped when she found the number on her phone, “She’s been spending the last two months moving her office here to Chicago. She’s been out of town for about two weeks but she’s due back.”

“Sounds promising.”

Diane nodded, “We were in law school together. But she dropped out and took up Mass Communication and Public Relations instead. She said what she does is more fun than the law...she thinks it’s entertaining.”

Will raised his eyebrows, “What exactly does she do?”

“She’s kind of a fixer...” she trailed off lightly, “She runs a very specialized PR firm. She likes the complicated cases and she runs campaigns that would rival Eli Gold’s...which is why they just formed a partnership together.”

He frowned, “She works with Eli Gold?”

“It was either that or kill each other,” she said simply, “Washington was a very good training ground for making really battered careers become viable again,” Diane explained, “She loves cleaning up messes.”

Will nodded curtly, “Sounds...interesting.”

Diane smirked, “She’s got Monica Lewinsky back in the lecture circuits.” She thought for a moment, “And just returned a certain disgraced Governor back into his position after a two year exile.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Huh. Okay...do we really want those sorts of figures attached to our firm?”

“They won’t be,” she replied, “She works in the background.”

He snorted, “That’s reassuring.”

“This isn’t something I take lightly, Will,” she said, giving him a look. “This is bad...this is the kind of publicity that is incredibly difficult to recover from unless handled impeccably...” she trailed off, shaking her head miserably.

“I know, I know,” he said apologetically, “I’m sorry. Do what you need to do. I’ll support you.”

She reached for her office phone and punched in a set of numbers, “I’m calling for Ms. Walsh.” She gave Will a look, smiling tightly, “Yes, tell her this is Diane calling for Viola.”

****

**  
o0o  
**

“AM! Tell me you have something!”

The forensic specialist jumped, nearly dropping a slide she was handling. “Manners, Pacci.”

“They let him go,” Miranda said simply, striding into her lab angrily, “They let him go, AM. That fucking bitch of a lawyer! Tell me you have something for me to pick his sorry ass up with outside the precinct this very moment!”

“We just started processing the DNA,” Aida sighed, “I’m sorry, Red. I tried but the backlogs are killing us.”

Miranda sighed, taking her temper down a few notches, “I know. I know. I’m sorry. But I swear if it didn’t cost me my badge I’d fucking hit that asshole in that smug face of his!” She growled, “And Stevens too!”

“I hate her,” Aida sighed, “It won’t be long, Pacci. It’s processing right now. I got DNA off the car, the earring and the blouse and the pelvic exam from the rape kit. If it’s his, we’ll definitely match it.”

“The blouse?” Miranda stopped, curious.

The scientist nodded, “There was saliva on the blouse...not hers. On the collar and on the front. The fibers were a little stressed. I think he bit her through the fabric.”

Miranda winced, “Fucking animal.”

The shorter girl nodded, “I hear you.”

“My warrant is waiting,” Miranda said, bouncing lightly on her heel, “This case needs to be handled properly...Boyle’s out there trying to find something to pin the guy with. He’s so pissed right now.”

“He left the building?” Aida asked, moving her slide under her microscope and put it in place for examination.

Miranda nodded, keeping herself at the doorway of the lab, “Yeah...and that’s probably not a bad thing. I think he would have thrown the guy out the window.”

“You mean like that time he threw a suspect’s head through the window of a patrol car?”

“That’s an exaggerated rumor,” the redhead muttered.

“Uh, no it wasn’t,” Aida chuckled, “That probably sounds like an urban legend but it’s not, Pacci. I was there. I was still working the field back then. That guy was a runner and Boyle was getting pissed going after him when the patrol car skidded to a stop to block them. He tackled the guy right into the window, man.”

Miranda frowned, “Are you serious?”

“One of Boyle’s greatest hits,” the brunette laughed.

“Shit, I was still working vice when that happened,” she shook her head, “God, I hope he’s not out there trashing the bar he’s supposed to be searching.”

“The case getting to him?” Aida asked, pausing for a moment.

“I don’t know, but it’s pissing him off,” Miranda bit her bottom lip, “I can’t tell if it’s getting to him or he’s just angry. I can’t tell sometimes.”

Aida shook her head, “In the old days, he would have been thrown into a room with IA for excessive force by now. Boyle’s gotten soft ever since the baby,” Aida observed, “Although that might change when she grows up and starts dating. I see dark days ahead.”

“Oh, fuck,” the cop groaned, “Don’t let me be around for that...”

“You’ll surely have front row seats,” she laughed, “Aren’t you like the godmother or something?”

The redhead sighed, “Yeah, yeah.” She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest, “Before all that, I need to keep him out of jail...and right now this case is a good candidate for sending him off on a warpath.”

“He hates scumbags,” Aida replied easily. “Don’t most cops?”

“Yeah, but he really hates this one,” Miranda said with a slight frown. “I don’t know what that’s about either.”

“I think it’s the roofies,” the scientist murmured, “He thinks it’s shitty enough when guys rape women but I think it grates on him even more when they add drugs to it and the girls don’t even get the chance to fight back.”

“That makes sense,” the redhead nodded, “But either way, it’s rape. They’re all scumbags.”

“Too true,” Aida agreed solemnly, “He’s off looking for evidence at the bar, right?”

Miranda nodded, “Yeah.”

Aida gave her a look, “As long as they let him do his thing, he won’t hurt a fly.”

“The owner is pretty cooperative,” Miranda said hopefully.

The shorter woman smiled, “Then he’s going to be just fine.”

****

**  
o0o  
**

Someone strode right into his office and closed the door.

Will looked up, an eyebrow raised and pen in hand. He frowned when he saw Kalinda standing in his office, the doors shut tight behind her and her little notebook in hand.

“Kalinda,” he said evenly, putting his pen down and leaned back in his seat. “What can I do for you today?”

“I have some information,” she said simply.

“You found out who leaked to Mandy Post?” he asked hopefully.

“Not yet but I should be hearing something about that by the end of today,” she answered then glanced behind her, particularly at the office across from his before facing him again. She tapped her little orange notebook in her hand, “I found something that I think I’ll need to give to Miranda.”

“About the case?” he frowned, “What is it?”

“The man they arrested,” she started, “Joe Harris. Remember when I asked Diane if she knew him?”

He nodded, “Yes. You said it sounded like he knew her. You found something?”

“I told Diane I’d be looking into the people she’s interacted with the last six months,” she began, moving across the room and stopped at his desk. “And further if I don’t find anything.”

Will maintained his patience, “And you found something?”

“I think so,” she opened her notebook, pulling her pen from within a page she was leaving marked. “Diane hired a new housekeeper five months ago.”

“Okay, she changed housekeepers?” he frowned, “I know nothing about that.”

Kalinda ignored him, “Prior to that she had a housekeeper named Maria Harlow.”

Will raised an eyebrow, “Did Diane fire her?”

“No, Maria Harlow’s husband moved their family to Springfield,” the investigator supplied. “She left with glowing recommendations from Diane.”

“What’s this got to do with Harris, Kalinda?”

She placed her notebook on the table and showed it to Will, “Maria’s last name Harlow is her married name. She got married six years ago to a Frank Harlow. Her maiden name was Harris.”

“What?” Will sat forward, “Harris as in...?”

“Joseph Harris,” Kalinda supplied, “Maria Harlow’s brother.”

“You’re telling me the bastard who attacked Diane is her housekeeper’s brother?” he looked skeptical, his brows furrowed together and looking a little confused.

“We needed to find out how he knew Diane,” Kalinda pulled out a set of papers, “These are documents supporting the connection between Maria and Joseph Harris. I confirmed it with their records along with photos. This is how he knows Diane. His sister worked for her for three years.”

“But why would he go after her?” Will asked, confused. “You said she left on good terms.”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “We wanted to find out how they’re connected. This is how they’re connected.”

Will shook his head, “It makes no sense, Kalinda. I can imagine Diane was good to her housekeeper but I don’t think I can imagine her palling around with her housekeeper’s brother.”

Kalinda nodded, “Me too...which is why I’m forwarding the information to Miranda. If he lied about not knowing Diane before the attack, that’s something she can use against him.” She flipped her notebook closed, “I’ll call his sister and see if she can shed some light on this.”

He nodded though he still looked troubled, “Yeah, do that. I don’t know who this guy is but whatever you can find to make sure he gets thrown in jail for this then do it. I want him locked up.” He folded his hands together, “Good job, K.”

“I’ll talk to the sister,” Kalinda said then jutted her thumb behind her, “You’ll talk to Diane?”

“Maybe after you talk to the sister,” he answered. “Ask her if she ever introduced her brother to Diane because she said she doesn’t know him. And I don’t think she’d lie about something like that.” 

Kalinda raised an eyebrow, “Then maybe he knew her.”

“Maybe,” Will agreed, “Keep me updated on what comes out of Springfield.”

****

**  
o0o  
**

A shadow fell over him.

Kurt McVeigh looked up from the book he was reading, an eyebrow arched lightly. A woman stood towering over him, dressed in a black coat lined with something gray that looked like fur. She wore a pair of oversized sunglasses, black leather high heeled boots and an expensive looking red handbag hanging from her forearm. She looked like someone who would fit well with the crowd his lover ran around with but he didn’t know her. He’d seen some photos of her friends and she was definitely not the sandy haired Fran who was married to Lyle or the wild flame-haired Lenore who was married to Henry. He didn’t say anything and simply stared, holding his book patiently.

“Diane Lockhart.”

He looked around the empty office, his eyes lingering on the empty desk. He quietly closed his book, noting the page he was on then cleared his throat quietly. He placed a hand on his chest then said, “No. Kurt McVeigh.”

The woman with the thick brown long wavy hair pushed her sunglasses up over her head to reveal playful but intelligent blue eyes and arched an eyebrow at him with a smirk on her sharp feminine features, “Cute. I’m here for Diane Lockhart. Where is she?” her eyes scanned the office before settling on the man on the couch once more.

“All you gotta do was ask,” he smirked lightly, “She’s in the washroom.”

“Of course,” she huffed dramatically, “Summon me like this and then hide.” She placed her purse on the coffee table and crossed her arms over her chest, “You’re not Will Gardner.” She turned away from him, moving towards the large windows of the office on the other side of the room and looked at the city on the horizon.

“No, sorry,” Kurt muttered, leaning back in his seat after setting his book next to her abandoned purse. “He’s across the hall. If you wanna talk to him you can go—”

“No, no,” she cut him off easily. “I’m here for Diane.” 

He nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him at all, “I don’t meant to be rude, but who are you?”

“A friend,” she said simply, her dark brown hair streaked with light blonde highlights bouncing slightly as she tilted her head to the side though she made no move to turn around and look at him. “Oh, I think I’ll enjoy getting to know Chicago.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Not from around here?”

She snorted and finally turned back to face him, “Hardly. Washington, DC.”

The corner of his mouth curled up slightly, “Should’ve guessed,”

“Bet I could guess too,” she smiled wickedly and a perfectly groomed eyebrow arched sharply, “Let me guess...Marine?”

He couldn’t help the slight smirk, “What gave me away?”

She gave him a flirtatious smile, “I know my way around men in uniform.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly at her, “You’re a friend of Diane’s?”

“When I’m in the city,” she said sassily and for a moment, he debated silently within himself whether she was of Italian or Greek descent. He leaned more towards the former, noting her striking features and simply stared at her. It seemed to prompt her to go on, “We went to college together.”

“You’re a lawyer?” he asked, hiding his surprise. He hadn’t pegged her as one.

She laughed, “No. Fortunately, I missed that bullet. I’m...let’s just say, I’m in the entertainment business.”

Kurt frowned. She wasn’t a lawyer but he wasn’t gonna buy that she was in entertainment business either. She seemed too sharp for that and she was enjoying this far too much. He wasn’t up for guessing games though so he just shrugged it off and motioned towards the private washroom, “She’s in there. She should be—”

The door suddenly opened and Diane stepped out. She was about to say something to Kurt when she noticed he was pointing at something on the other side of the room. Frowning, she stopped, turned and broke into a surprisingly wide smile when she saw who the other person in the room was.

“You took your sweet time,” the brunette said with a smirk, turning to face her blonde friend with a wide toothy grin.

“Viola,” Diane smiled, “You came.”

“Of course, dear,” she replied pleasantly. “It’s been a while.”

“Have you met—” Diane began to motion towards Kurt though she faltered for a beat on her introduction. “—Commander McVeigh? He’s...from the Chicago Police Department.” She didn’t miss the look he gave her and chose to ignore it. 

“Now that, I missed,” Viola drawled out, “Commander. Am I interrupting? I was under the impression I was to be here at this time?”

“No, no,” Kurt said, standing up. “I’m actually the odd man out here, Ms. Walsh.”

Diane looked over at him, “I’ll see you later?”

“I won’t be far,” he answered then looked at Viola and nodded towards her, “Miss Walsh.”

“Mr. McVeigh,” she said, giving him another flirtatiously wide smile. “Please, it’s Viola.”

He smirked at her, “I’ll leave you ladies to catch up.” He placed his book on the coffee table in front of him and glanced at Diane as he moved towards the doors, “I need to check in at the precinct...maybe they’ve decided when to let me back in.” He tossed a look at Viola, “Good to meet you...Viola.”

“I’d say,” Viola purred, waving at him with her fingers.

He smiled at Diane before pulling the door open and stepped out of the office. Shaking her head a his retreating form, Diane motioned for her friend to take a seat across her desk and waited before Kurt closed the doors behind him. Viola turned towards her with a raised eyebrow before moving towards her to briefly exchange friendly kisses on the cheek before taking her seat. She shrugged off her coat, smiling pleasantly.

“So that’s the man you’ve been so tight-lipped about,” she said casually though her bright blue eyes were dancing. “You’ve been holding out on me. A cop, darling?”

Diane shrugged lazily, “You were in the middle of moving to Chicago...I thought I’d hold off on introductions until you were done. We haven’t had a proper dinner in a while.”

“Hmm, yes,” Viola nodded absently, “Moving offices has been a hassle but at least we’re in the same city now and our offices are actually done setting up. How did you know? Did Fran tell you? Don’t tell me it was Lenore?” There was a knowing look in her eyes—she got along splendidly with Fran as all three women had been in college together but the redheaded wife of Diane’s childhood friend was another story. 

“I didn’t know, actually,” Diane replied, brushing off the familiar turn the conversation was about to take. She hadn’t asked Viola to come over to dish on their friends, “Vi, I called you for a reason.”

“Oh? I thought you sounded odd over the phone...but I was sure I was imagining it,” Viola stopped, her expression turning serious. “I was beginning to think I’d lost my touch,” she started to chuckle but then she stopped when she realized her friend wasn’t joining her. She frowned, concern lining her features, “Diane, what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t call you over for girl talk,” Diane explained, folding her arms around her stomach as she sat back in her seat. “I think I’m going to need your help.”

“Well, of course, dear,” the brunette said easily though she still looked concerned. “With what?” She shook her head slightly, her long brown hair bouncing around her shoulders lightly, “You look so serious. You’re starting to worry me. What’s going on? Is it the firm?”

“No, no,” she sighed, “The firm is fine. I need your help. This is personal.” She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking, “I went out...a couple of nights ago and I was attacked.”

“Attacked?” Viola looked instantly alarmed, “Someone attacked you? What happened? Were you mugged or what?”

Diane shook her head, “I was drugged while I was at the bar and afterwards, I woke up in my car...I don’t know who did it but the police have made an arrest.” 

A deep frown came over her pretty Grecian features, “Drugged? As in...” she stopped, placing a hand over her mouth. “Someone drugged you and...”

The blonde nodded almost imperceptibly, “They think it might have been slipped into my drink.”

“Roofies,” she murmured with a slight shake of her head. “Someone roofied you and attacked...attacked you?” She looked instantly devastated, “Oh, my god. _Diane_.”

“I’m fine,” Diane insisted, “It...I have no memory and apart from a few scratches, I’m really alright. But if this goes to court...I’m a defense attorney, Vi. I know how they’re going to try and play this. I’m going to need you to do what you do...I’ve seen you dress up sex scandals with so much religion and piety, people forget there was a scandal to begin with.”

“Wait, wait—” Viola held up a hand, “I’m _still_ trying to wrap my head around this. Diane, someone raped you?”

To her horror, tears suddenly sprang to her eyes, hot and burning and so suddenly, it caught her off guard. She breathed in sharply and steeled her jaw, “Yes.” When her friend opened her mouth to speak, she shook her head. “I’m fine, Viola. I just need you to fix this. If this gets out of control, we’ll lose clients and the firm will take a hit.” She looked at her with sharp blue eyes, “I can’t let that happen. Will you help me?”

“Of course,” the brunette answered quickly, nodding so much her hair bounced around her almost comically. “God, this happened two days ago? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because I didn’t want anyone to know, Viola!” she snapped before she could stop herself. She swallowed hard and reminded herself to calm down before speaking in a more even tone. “Someone from the Tribune has the story. I’m going to need your help containing this.” She rubbed her temple with a grimace, “I just need you to do what you do best... _please_?”

The dark haired beauty looked at her for a moment, looking distraught then slowly nodded. She brushed a hand over one cheek and took a deep breath, straightening her spine and adapted a more professional demeanor. Diane watched her visibly will herself to calm down and slowly pull herself together and she was silently grateful that she listened. She couldn’t face comfort now, couldn’t face the questions—not from Viola who was surely swimming in all of it by now. She couldn’t take the pity, not when she was so busy trying to keep her facade in place. Diane was not willing to have another breakdown, especially not in the office for all to see.

Viola’s lips curled upward in what was supposed to be a smile but it fell flat. “Do you know who has the story?” she asked as she grabbed a pen from Diane’s desk and snatched the legal pad from her blotter.

“Mandy Post,” she answered dully. “She’s an old friend of Will’s. She called to tell him she has it and she’s running with it. He managed to convince her to sit on it for a couple of days for now.”

“That won’t hold for long,” she shook her head and began writing furiously. “Post was in DC for a while with the Times before moving here. She likes think of herself as a professional journalist who’s above it all but she’s like a goddamned dog with a bone...” she thought for a moment, “Still...better than most. Mandy likes to stick to the facts.” 

Diane looked at her lap, “Guess there’s something to small favors.”

Her friend nodded, “You were roofied in a bar...alone?” She motioned her head towards the empty couch, “Not with Kurt?”

“No, we...” she stopped, “We were on a break at the time.” She looked away, “It’s complicated, Vi. There was a lot going on...and that night? There was some alcohol abuse involved...and a lot of bad judgments made on my part.”

“It doesn’t make it your fault,” Viola’s eyes flashed dangerously, “Diane, don’t even go there. We’ve had these kinds of talks. We’ve _given_ these kinds of talks. Don’t fall into that trap.”

“I _know_ ,” Diane said, looking at her with wide eyes, paling slightly. “Mandy told Will she thinks the story was shopped around to other places...we haven’t heard anything but it’s possible.”

“Defamation suits,” Viola muttered, “And as much as the media likes to think they are all powerful, they’re still bound by law when it comes to publishing names of...” her voice trailer off and she stopped, her eyes widening for a moment. She looked at her friend then quietly cleared her throat and continued, “...people who went through these things.”

“Vi...” Diane started only for the brunette to shrug her off and went on as if she hadn’t heard her.

She waved a dismissive hand, “You’ll need me to head this off at the pass. You know how these things work. If someone is shopping the story around—that means someone wants to use this story for something.” Her eyes grew dark, “And being the negative Nancy you hate so much, I’m willing to bet someone is trying to use this to go after you. If they can’t use the legitimate press for this, they’ll find other places—blogs, vlogs, twitter and any and all social media platforms they can get their hands on.” 

The blonde ran a frustrated hand through her hair, “I figured as much.”

“It’s the ugly side of progress,” Viola barred her teeth, “But they don’t know you have me on your side. Since I know how you and Will operate, I’m sure your investigatot is tracking whoever is trying to shop your story around?”

Diane nodded, “Yes, Will has her on it.”

“Good, I trust she’ll find out who’s behind this,” Viola intoned, pleased that she wasn’t working on this alone. She wanted to make sure Diane was as protected as possible—she knew how ugly this could get. As much as people say they were tired of sex scandals, it still didn’t stop them from clicking page per page just to pour through details of one scandal after another. And if this was going to get as ugly as Viola was already imagining it could then she needed to shield Diane as much and as quickly as possible. A strategy was already forming in her mind, faster than her hand could keep up with as she furiously outlined her plan of attack on the stolen legal pad she was working on.

“I’m glad you called me so soon. This would be harder if you waited for the story to break.” She gave her a soft look, “I’ll protect you as much as I can. You won’t have to worry about that.”

She’s gotten through worst people through these kinds of things and they came out of it relatively unscathed. Now that her best friend was on the line, she was more determined to make sure to come out the victor in this brewing fight.

Diane smiled a little, “I’m not. I know what I was doing when I called you.”

“Of course,” she smiled in turn then took on a more somber look, “I’ll have to know everything. We need to know if we’ll need to spin this...especially if this ends up going to court.”

“Chances are, it will,” she muttered, “I’m hoping to avoid it if at all possible, honestly.”

“But not at the expense of justice,” Viola insisted sternly, pointing at her with the pen in her hand. “You cannot let the bastard who did this to you get away with it!”

“I know,” the blonde sighed, earning herself a questioning look from her friend.

Putting aside her own questions outside the narrative she was being tasked to control, Viola moved to a new page on the legal pad, “I’m going to need to know the story, Diane...everything. We need to know what we’re dealing with.” Her eyes were filled with sorrow and regret for what she needed to put her friend through.

Diane nodded then grit her teeth and started from the very beginning—again.

****

**  
o0o  
**

“Where is he? Where the hell is he?”

Miranda looked up from her desk, her long red hair pulled back in a messy bun with the forensics report open in front of her. Her partner was stalking down with an angry look on his face with his badge hanging around his neck from its chain. Seeing the look of absolutely fury on his face, she pushed her chair back and stood up. She moved so fast it bounced against the wood panel behind it but she paid it no mind as she rushed to meet Damian across the room.

“Boyle!” she called, meeting him just as he entered their bullpen. “Did you find anything?”

There were beads of sweat on his temple and his cheeks were bright red from rushing through the precinct, “Yeah, where is he? Where’s Harris?” He pulled his phone out, “My phone died. I was trying to tell you to hold him.”

“His lawyer got him out an hour ago,” Miranda replied regrettably. “What did you find?”

“Evidence,” Damian spat, his body positively vibrating with excited energy. “I got full authorization from Tully Nelson to search the premises. I did it by the book, Pacci—” he jabbed his finger at a young recruit that was trailing him from behind. The kid was holding a box of evidence with a camera on top of it, “I had the kid film me during the search. We have him, Pacci! We can nail that little fucker!”

“What’d you find?” Miranda asked as he turned around and started to head to where she guessed was the evidence locker. “The tapes?”

“More than the tapes and fucking better!” the large man growled, “We gotta get him back, Pacci. I got the damned pills—in his fucking backpack!”

“Pills? His backpack?” Miranda’s eyes widened as they moved through the halls. “You found Rohypnol in his backpack?”

“Yeah!” her partner growled, “It wasn’t in his locker but it was shoved up in a vent in the back of the bar. It has his things inside—a used shirt, some cash and the idiot fucking named his backpack! A thirty-five-fucking-year-old named his backpack with pills that have got to be the fucking Rohypnol!”

Miranda’s eyes widened, “Oh, my god. That’s great work, Boyle—” then she punched him really hard on the shoulder.

“What the f—what the hell?” Damian growled just as they entered the evidence locker. 

She glared at him, “You left without me!”

“I told ya to hold him!” he retorted, “I took recruits and uniforms with me.”

“What did you want me to do, Boyle? Break his knees so he can’t leave?”

“Well, yeah?” he stopped then looked at Miranda, “We got him by the balls, Pacci. We gotta get him back here.”

“I’ll call his lawyer and have her bring him back in,” she promised. “They shouldn’t be far. I’m sure Miss Stevens would be interested to know we have more than the tapes now.”

“Yeah? What about the DNA?” Damian asked impatiently.

“They’re still processing but AM says it’s almost done,” she smirked. “Stevens has no clue what we have on her guy.”

“We’ve got him, Pacci,” Damian growled. “We’re gonna get this guy. We’ll shove the evidence so far up his ass they’re going to be begging for a deal!” He laughed, “They’ll never make it in court.”

Miranda smiled widely, giving her partner a friendly smack on the shoulder just as they reached the evidence lockers.

****

**  
o0o  
**

“Quite an entrance I’m going to be making in Chicago.”

“Like you would want anything less,” Diane said in a low voice but her tone was friendly.

“Diane?”

She looked up, noting the obvious concern on her friend’s face, she inclined her head though she didn’t say anything and waited for what she might have to say.

“Alcohol abuse?” Viola said slowly, “Going out drinking alone? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“One of the many...many bad judgment calls I made that night, Vi,” she said with a heavy sigh, placing a heavy hand around her neck. She could feel her pulse against the tip of her fingers.

Viola didn’t look like she was willing to settle on that reasoning, “What’s gotten you into heavy drinking?”

“I think...” she started, glancing through her glass walls. “This conversation is better reserved for a more private setting...say, the girl talk portion of our reunion?”

The brunette smiled understandingly, “Which reminds me...my apartment is still not finished. Fran and Lyle offered to let me stay over but you did say if I was ever in Chicago—” she gave her a wide smile.

“You can have the guest bedroom,” Diane replied, smiling a little. “That should make our catching up easier.”

“I’d have to agree,” the PR whiz grinned then let it fade away into a more serious look, “I’ll have my things moved from the hotel to your place. Tonight?” She paused thoughtfully, “Seven?”

Diane checked her phone, “Make it eight.”

“Should I act surprised when I find Mr. McVeigh in your bed tonight?” she gave her friend a lascivious smile.

The beautiful blonde shifted in her seat, “He’s not... _in_ my bed, per se.”

“Oh,” Viola feigned innocence. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em?” She clicked her tongue, “Diane, you minx.”

“It’s nothing like that,” she muttered in response. “I was...very tired last night. It was a very emotionally draining day yesterday...he took me home, fed me and I think I just fell asleep.” She looked perturbed by that, “I seem to be making a habit of doing lately.”

That was enough to sober the brunette, “I think under the circumstances, that would be understandable.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” Diane sighed. “He slept on the couch...or the guestroom. I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“So are you still on break?” Viola asked, unable to help herself.

Diane looked at her, opening her mouth to speak only to close it again.

It was then she realized she had absolutely no idea how to answer that question.

****

**  
o0o  
**

“We got it! We got it!”

One of the uniforms was running through the bullpen, holding a set of papers in hand. Miranda and Damian looked up from their work, both pouring over a timeline that they had been piecing together on a medium sized white board in the corner of the room. They had pictures put up of everything and everyone except that of their victim, the partner that took her to the hospital and a certain team leader from the precinct. They were still in the middle of an investigation and the last thing they needed was for someone to leak the story to the press before they could get Joe Harris back in for questioning.

“Gimme!” Damian snatched the paper from the uniformed officer and let out a whoop then passed off the paper to his partner. He moved towards the white board full of timelines, notes, photos of people involved as well as some snapshots of the evidence they had. He swiped the official photo of Joseph Harris from the Department of Motor Vehicles and slapped it under the words ‘MAIN SUSPECT’ that were written in all capital letters with dark red marker.

“It’s a match,” Miranda breathed, reading through the brief report. “Harris’ DNA matches semen from the skirt, the saliva from the blouse and the pelvic exam. Goddamn it, we have him.”

Damian nodded, smacking his palm against his own desk, “Fuck yeah, Pacci. We got the little fucker.”

“We need to contact the DA’s office and alert them we have a cases heading their way,” she rounded her desk and moved towards her phone. “Fuck. We need to get this guy before he does something stupid and makes a run for it.”

“Any word from the uniforms we sent out?” Damian asked, taking the papers they had and started to put them together. They already had a warrant ready and he only needed to include the additional evidence before finding a judge to sign for it. He had sent out a couple of uniforms to track down Joe Harris after his lawyer informed them quite simply she did not know where her client was and Damian was beginning to think that was going to be a big problem. 

Joe Harris acted like a stupid hot head but even he had to know they were going to find the evidence they needed to make an arrest. And if he wasn’t as stupid as Damian thought he was, he should have realized by now they’d find his backpack in the vent with the incriminating evidence. Damian wasn’t sure what he was going to do if the pervert made a run for it but he made a silent promise he wouldn’t stop until he had the animal behind bars.

Miranda checked her phone for the last update that had been sent to her about her person of interest turned official main suspect. She cursed under her breath, “He didn’t go back to his apartment today.”

“What?” Damian looked up with a scowl. “They haven’t found him yet?”

“No, he didn’t go to the bar either,” Miranda sighed. “They think he’s in the wind.” 

“Are you shitting me?” Damian ground out with a stiff jaw. “They fucking lost him?”

“We weren’t exactly allowed to shadow him, Boyle,” she muttered. “They’re still looking. They’ve issued a BOLO as of twenty minutes ago but it wasn’t exactly through official channels.”

“Who sent out the fucking BOLO?” Damian asked, confused. “It wasn’t me.”

“Not me either,” the redhead answered, “I think it was higher up.”

“Higher up? What the hell does that mean?” he groused. “Is it McVeigh? Tell me he’s not horning in on this, Pacci. He’s gonna shoot this case to hell if he doesn’t stay the fuck away.”

“It wasn’t him,” Miranda said simply. “He hasn’t been coming in. They sent him on leave for the time being.”

“Then who was it?” Damian pressed. “Pacci?”

“I think it was the brass,” she murmured. “The Commander wouldn’t ask for it but I told you—they like him. They’d do it even if he didn’t ask.”

“Well, that’s just dandy, isn’t it?” Damian hissed, moving closer to his partner. “They like kissing McVeigh’s ass so bad, they’re going to fuck this case over if Stevens even thinks for one hot goddamned second we’re fucking around this case. What do they want, huh, Pacci? They want this guy to walk on a technicality?”

“Of course not,” Miranda frowned. “They’re trying to help.”

“Well, fucking lot of good that did, right?” her partner spit. “Because he’s in the fucking wind!” 

She watched as her partner picked up a stapler from his desk and threw it angrily against the wall. “Boyle! What the fuck?”

“Find him!” he bellowed at a terrified kid in a uniform who suddenly looked a lot younger than he actually did. “I want an APB on Harris’ ass yesterday! He is officially a suspect in a rape and we have a warrant out for his ass. Find him before I find him first!”

The kid in the uniform nodded, scurrying off to do as he was told as Damian glared after him. He shot a menacing look at a Narcotics detective that was passing through and the man gave him a wide berth. His temper was legendary, especially in these parts and at the moment, Damian Boyle was reaching his boiling point. There was a reason why his Internal Affairs files were the subject of the most interesting and often almost mythical rumors. He was as relentless as he was tenacious especially on cases where he felt he was being jerked around in. And for some reason, there was just something about this particular suspect that was making his temper flare more spectacularly than normal.

Damian ignored the look his partner was giving him and instead he plopped his butt back down on his seat, hurriedly typing out the missing parts of his warrant and immediately had it printed. Miranda watched him closely, shaking her head lightly as she waited for someone from the District Attorney’s office to answer her call.

“Boyle...”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered.

“Bullshit,” she growled, “What’s going on?”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” he shot her a dark look. “And it’s pissing me off.”

“We’ve had to hunt down suspects before,” she pointed out. “They run. They’re stupid. It’s our job.”

“No,” he muttered. “Something’s not right about Harris, Pacci. And I have a bad feeling about this.”

Miranda sighed, kicking his chair lightly. “We’ll get him, Boyle. You’ll see.”

He snatched the warrant he printed out, a grim expression on his face as he grabbed his coat. Something wasn’t right and Damian was starting to feel like they had just made a big mistake that would cost them more than losing a case.

****

**  
o0o  
**

The drive back to her house was relatively pleasant.

She hadn’t done too much that day. Diane had met with a few clients that afternoon, maintaining status quo and happy to do so while they were still blissfully unaware of the storm that was brewing around her. She had met with Julius Cain and a few people from Litigation—the rumors were flying high and fast now when she confirmed that she was indeed handing off a few cases to the managing partner but Julius simply kept it all in stride. He did his best to treat her as he normally would though even Diane could see the hesitation in his eyes and his actions—she appreciated it and though Julius wasn’t aware, it helped her power through the day.

Being compelled to convince her colleague she was fine and was not in any risk of suffering some sort of meltdown was enough to give Diane the jolt she needed to keep herself in check. She knew she had surprised Julius with her resilience and it gave her the confidence she’d lost in the last few days. If she could convince the skeptic that was Julius Cain of her performance, she was sure she could convince anyone. In the back of her mind, Diane tried not to think about David Lee seemingly determined to maintain distance from her—she’d kept up with communications with him through her phone and email, he might as well be on the other side of the country rather than the building. She wasn’t sure how to take that so she left it alone, deciding whatever was going on with David would sort itself out.

Kurt had come back into her office sometime during lunch with food and they shared another quiet meal in her office. They kept to mostly neutral topics which included a brief discussion as to who exactly Viola Walsh was to her. It had been a fairly enjoyable time spent together, one that Diane appreciated more than Kurt probably realized. They were getting back into their old rhythm despite the cloud that was hanging over her head and it helped lighten the heaviness she had been feeling.

They both made dinner plans and discussed what the rest of her day looked like as if everything had always been as it was. He declared he would be taking charge of dinner again informed her of his plans to make a stop at the store while she was in the office and take the things he needed to cook with to her house. He hadn’t batted an eye when she told him they would be having a guest over and she was glad of it. At least Viola and Kurt had gotten off to a pleasant start—the last thing she needed was conflict between the two people who both rightly belonged in her life.

“I think we should be fine here,” Kurt said as he spotted a parking space not too far from her townhouse. The space was adequate enough for the Ford pickup and he parallel parked easily, killing the engine once he was sure he was properly in place. “Alright, that should do it.”

Diane nodded, grabbing her purse and slipped out of his truck. She waited for him by the sidewalk patiently, glancing around the darkened street. “Viola should be here by eight so we have time.”

Kurt glanced at his watch, “Yeah. Cooking shouldn’t take too long. Hungry?”

“I’m sure I will be,” she replied with a small smile. “Thank you for making dinner.”

“Of course,” he smiled, meeting her by the sidewalk after locking his truck. He took her hand in his as they made their way up the street to her place. They were a couple of cars away from her front door which wasn’t too bad. He’d still be able to see his truck from the window if there should be a problem although Diane lived in a relatively safe part of the city.

“So, you’re not going to work yet tomorrow?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the ground as they walked. 

“Uh, doesn’t look like it,” Kurt shrugged. “They said I have about a couple hundred leaves accumulated or something.”

“ _What_?” Diane stopped, turning to face him with an incredulous grin. “Are you kidding?”

“Nope,” he the corners of his mouth turned up. “Actually—oh, wait.” He started to pat his jacket pocket blindly, “Oh, crap. I forgot my wallet in the truck.”

Diane raised her eyebrows, “Oh, you can’t leave that there. Why don’t you go get it?”

“Alright, I’ll get you inside the house first and—”

“Don’t be silly,” she waved a dismissive hand. “The door’s right there. I’ll go ahead. Go get your wallet and make sure your truck’s locked.” She shrugged with a lazy smile, “Don’t tempt fate.”

“I’ll be quick,” Kurt promised, turning to head back down the street. “Got your keys?”

Diane nodded and dangled them in her fingers, “Right here.”

He smiled, “Alright. Go on ahead and get inside. I’ll be right behind you.”

“You better,” she muttered with a smile before turning her back on him with a slight flourish.

They both headed the opposite directions with Kurt heading back to his parked vehicle and Diane heading to her townhouse, keys in hand and her purse hanging off her forearm. She pulled her coat closer around her, bypassing a woman walking her dog going in the opposite direction where Kurt had left his truck. A gentle gust of wind swept through the street and she felt her body shudder involuntarily. It was ten past six and the skies had grown dark and the streetlamps were lit, giving her enough illumination to make the rest of her way home.

Diane glanced behind her, catching Kurt just as he poked his torso into the truck and she smiled. She almost made it to the steps of her townhouse when she felt someone suddenly clamp a hand around her arm and jerked her around. She let out a startled scream, nearly tripping in her heels as she was spun in place and another hand clamped around her other arm. She barely had time to react when she found herself suddenly face to face with an angry stranger.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snarled at her, his eyes bulging and his face inches from hers.

She let out a painful gasp when she felt his hands curl tighter around her upper arms, “Oh-wh—!”

Everything had happened so fast it left struggling to get her bearings back leaving her barely able to keep up. She struggled in the tight hold and she blinked several times, breathing heavily through her mouth. Her eyes tried to adjust to the face that was shoved right up against hers and Diane attempted to focus on her attacker’s face, struggling to get through the haze of pain and confusion. He was so angry, his cheeks so red and his face so close, she felt his spittle against her face when he snarled at her and it left her petrified. 

“You cunt! Who the hell do you think you’re fucking with, huh?”

In the midst of the struggle and the jarring effect of being caught in a blitz attack, it took Diane a moment to realize just who the angry stranger was. She recognized him from the photo she’d been shown and there was a brief flash of memory that had been buried deep in her mind. The leering smile that left her waking up with a scream stuck in her throat flashed in her mind’s eye and suddenly, she knew exactly who he was.

Diane screamed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains strong language and scenes depicting violence.

“Boyle! We gotta go!”

“What’s going on?” Damian stopped what he was doing instantly, pulling his badge and his gun from the drawer. “Did they find Harris?”

“Dispatch just alerted me to a distress call from an officer needing assistance,” Miranda said hurriedly as they headed out the door. “It was from Commander McVeigh. Harris went after Diane Lockhart! He’s at her house!”

“Fuck,” Damian growled as they rushed out of the precinct together. “That stupid son of a—I’ll kill Harris myself!”

“Get in line,” Miranda muttered, “McVeigh engaged the suspect and dropped off the line.”

Damian’s eyes darkened, “Fuck. He’s gonna kill him. Did they ask for an ambulance?”

“No,” Miranda said grimly. “He didn’t say much. It was an attack in progress. Goddamn it, we let that son of a bitch go!”

“Like we had a choice,” her partner growled. “Harris has no fucking clue what he’s getting from McVeigh, Pacci. I’ve seen him take a suspect down.”

Miranda shook the lapel of her coat, “I know, Boyle. He’s not going to go easy on this guy.”

“Then why don’t we just let him take care of him then?” Damian muttered under his breath as they rushed out.

“Because we can’t let him!” Miranda snapped, truly worried about leaving the man who trained her with their suspect. Kurt McVeigh was stoic but when let off the leash, his combat training showed and it wasn’t something Miranda took lightly. She’d seen him take down suspects going at him at full tilt with barely a blink.

“I say give it to him, man—it’s not like anyone’s gonna miss a pervert,” he argued in a low voice.

“Come on, Boyle!” she urged, pushing him out the door. “I’m more worried about our victim here. He could have gotten to her first!”

“If McVeigh is there then there’s no way he got to her,” Damian hissed as they jumped into their vehicle. “He’s going to fucking kill that piece of shit before he can get to her again, Pacci. And you know it.”

Miranda shook her head, checking the clip of her gun as he turned on their sirens and peeled off the lot, “That’s what we’re going to try and avoid, Boyle. He can’t kill the guy!”

“He went after her—at her fucking house!” Damian growled, wrenching the steering wheel as they took a sharp turn “By my count, he gets to kill the son of a bitch!”

“Not at the cost of his goddamn badge,” Miranda snapped. “Just get there, Boyle. Now!”

"Can I just point out how stupid this is?" he grumbled as he drove. "We're running out of the precinct like a bat out of hell just to rescue that goddamned idiot because he's going to get exactly what he deserves!"

"Oh, just drive, Boyle!"

****

**  
o0o  
**

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Kurt!” Diane managed to finally call out desperately, struggling in Harris’ grasp. She felt him tighten his hold on her which caused the panic to rise within her. She let out a small cry, kicking out desperately and caught him on the shin. 

Harris grunted but did not loosen his grip and instead pulled her closer to him, “What the fuck have you been saying about me, huh? You got the cops on me? You bitch!”

“Get away from me!” she screamed, digging a sharp heel into his foot painfully. He grunted and let out a curse, his grip to loosening enough for her to wrench herself away from him, twisting her arms out of his grasp and turned to run.

But Harris was having none of it, grabbing her forearm viciously, “Get back here!”

Diane let out a scream and reacted, throwing her free arm wide and managed to catch his cheek with her key. She stopped, stumbling back and breathing heavily, reaching blindly for anything to grab on to though she found none.

Harris grunted, stepping back from her and held a hand to his cheek. When he looked at his hand, he saw the blood that came with the cut she’d left on his face. He snarled at her, reaching for her once more but she turned to run. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

She dropped her purse and tried to run but a sudden rush of air caught her by surprise, stilling her movements. Diane watched with horror as Kurt body slammed her attacker, throwing him against the railing of the steps leading up to her apartment. She jumped back with a small scream, eyes wide, legs shaking and one hand wrapped around a her forearm.

He managed to slam Harris’ lower back into the metal railing, the sharp edge digging into his flesh and causing an explosion of pain. The blow had been enough to slow his momentum, leaving him groaning with his body folded forward at the waist. Taking his eyes away from the momentarily stunned attacker, Kurt looked at Diane and the bloodied key in her hand, “Get inside the house and lock the door! Go!”

Kurt turned back just as Harris propelled himself from the railing, slamming his shoulder against his midsection. He grunted and bent his legs, keeping them firm on the ground and centered his weight. He let Harris push him back a couple of feet, just to make sure they would be away from Diane during the melee. He felt Harris’ hands try to grapple for his legs to take him down so Kurt made a grab for his head in retaliation, cranking his neck sideways and forced Harris to loosen his grip on his body and follow where his head was being yanked to or risk snapping his neck off. Kurt moved him away from him just far enough to deliver a punch to the side of his head, leaving his ears ringing.

Disoriented from the blow, Harris swung out blindly, barely catching Kurt on the arm which he easily dodged. He retaliated by hitting him on the jaw which threw him on one side so Kurt let his other fist swing to catch the other side of his face with his fist. Harris stumbled back, cursing loudly and got himself back on his feet with an angry grunt. He threw a right hook but Kurt managed to deflect the oncoming blow and delivered a hit right into his left rib instantly dropped him on one knee. He caught Harris’ leg and swiped it from underneath him with his foot and Harris fell forward, landing face first and smacking his nose against the pavement with a sickening crack. 

Unable to get through the red haze that was clouding his vision, Kurt dove in after him, pulling him from the ground and catching his head in a lock. He snarled as he held Harris against his chest in a rear naked choke, his right arm circling his neck trapping his trachea at the crook of his elbow. Kurt grasped his upper left arm with his right hand and let his left hand grab hold of the back of Harris’ head, keeping him in place and restricting his movements. Slowly, he began to apply pressure, bringing his elbows together and started tightening them around Harris’ neck. 

Initially, Harris tried to reach up and try to claw his way out of the hold but the marine barely reacted to his rapidly weakening reach. Kurt barred his teeth viciously, putting even more pressure around his elbows and did not let go even when his captive no longer showed signs of trying to escape his hold. He reached his hand further up the back of Harris’ head and began to pull only to have a scream halt his movements.

“Kurt, no!” Diane’s desperate shriek pierced through the red haze. “Kurt, no! Please, stop!”

He stopped and for a moment his vision began to clear and he looked up and found her standing in front of him with tears in her eyes. Her hands were reaching out towards him, shaking with a pleading look on her face.

“Stop,” she said in a hoarse voice. “This is not you. Let him go.”

With blood pounding in his ears, Kurt looked away, turning his head slightly as he breathed heavily though he continued to hold Harris against him. He wasn’t moving anymore and his face had started to develop a slight blue tinge with his cheeks swelling against Kurt’s forearm, rapidly losing consciousness with each moment he was kept in the tight hold.

“You can’t kill him,” she said in a desperate whisper. “Please, Kurt. Don’t. I can’t lose you to him like this.”

Suddenly, Kurt took a deep breath, bowing his head slightly before letting out a low growl and abruptly let Harris go, dropping him into the ground. He fell heavily, slipping from his hold and ending up in a lump on the ground, half conscious and gasping for breath. Kurt shook his head, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand before reaching for his handcuffs behind him. He began to mutter out the Miranda Rights, mindlessly dictating the words as he willed himself to calm down and resist the urge to do more damage.

Diane stepped back, wrapping an arm around her stomach and placing a hand over her mouth. She jumped when three vehicles suddenly screeched to a halt around them, two police cars and one black sedan. The two detectives who interviewed her at the hospital got out of the unmarked vehicle, guns drawn and rushing towards Kurt and Harris who he still held down on the ground even while handcuffed.

“Commander!” Miranda called out, beating the two uniforms and her partner to Kurt.

“Take him!” Kurt said gruffly, getting up and taking a couple of steps back from Harris. “Get him out of here. Now!”

Miranda motioned for the uniformed police offers to do as they were told and looked at Kurt then Diane, her green eyes wide and her gun at her side. She hadn’t missed the blood that trailed from what looked like a broken nose and the bruises that were beginning to bloom on Harris’ face. Behind her, Damian grabbed their suspect from the uniformed cops and shoved him towards their car just as he’d done when they picked him up from his apartment.

Kurt ignored his former protege and turned towards where he’d last seen Diane. He rushed to get to her, reaching for her face instantly. She almost jumped at his touch, hating herself for reacting that way with him and allowed him to press his hand against the side of her face. Diane swallowed hard, forcing herself not to crumble as his eyes roamed her features for a quick second just to make sure she was alright before he shook his head at her wearily.

“I told you to go inside,” he muttered, pushing her hair back from her face. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep shuddering breath and gently pulled her into a tight embrace. “You’re okay,” he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than anyone of this fact.

She buried her face into his shoulder, “I couldn’t let you kill him.”

“I know,” he responded, pulling back and gently took hold of her wrists. He gently pushed back the sleeve of her purple dress to examine her forearms. There were bruises forming already where she had been grabbed but he could see no visible signs of anything that could be worst than bruising.

He glanced behind them, catching sight of Miranda who was still very much there though she kept her distance. They would need statements but Kurt wasn’t much in the mood to put up with the usual protocol especially when he knew exactly how Harris came to find himself outside Diane’s home. Taking note of the key Diane still had a death grip on, Kurt carefully extracted it from her fingers. 

She breathed in, slowly letting go and bit her bottom lip at the sight of blood on the metal, “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he shook his head and said reassuringly. He motioned for the young man in a police uniform standing next to Miranda to come forward and handed him the key to log for evidence. He felt her hand curl around his wrist tightly and turned to face her, seeing her wide eyes and the fear in them.

“He came out of nowhere.” she gasped. “Kurt, he could have...if you—he-he could have—”

“It’s okay,” he breathed out, cutting her off gently. He pressed his hand against her cheek, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

She nodded, sniffling lightly and leaning into his touch, “I know...I know.”

“Let’s go inside,” he said to her as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Everything’s going to be fine. Come on.”

“Commander McVeigh,” Miranda cut in carefully only to stop short when her mentor gave her a firm warning look. She nodded stiffly, taking a step back and turned away, understanding the silent command for what it was. She moved towards where Damian was securely guarding a still quite out of it Joe Harris, wondering idly if they needed to call for some medical assistance. She dutifully ignored the couple that were a few feet away and began to assess the damage that had been done to their suspect and see how far past the line they were on liability. 

Diane glanced at the female detective and turned to Kurt, “They’ll need—”

“Shh,” he pulled her into his arms once more, “It’s fine. It can wait. We need to get you inside. Come on,” he rubbed her arms gently. “You’ll freeze out here. Let’s go.”

Keeping his hold on Diane, Kurt pulled his own keys from his pocket and wrapped his an arm around her and pulled her close to his side. They walked together towards her front door and he rubbed her arm once more when he felt a shiver ripple through her body. He stopped to pick up the purse she dropped during the struggle and took her up to her front door and into the house.

Once they were inside, Kurt fell against the nearest wall, taking her with him. He gathered her into his arms, burying his face into her hair and let out a shuddering breath. Knowing they were in the security of her house and Harris was outside cuffed and under the watchful eyes of the Chicago Police Department, Kurt finally let his fears come to the surface. The adrenaline was making it’s way out of his system and the decompression was beginning to occur which meant he was slowly letting his hold on his emotions slip away.

The fear that had been easily overtaken by the need to protect and keep her safe flooded back and for a moment, he was afraid his knees would give out. He’d known there was no way in hell he would have let Harris get his hands on her again but seeing him get to her that easily had inspired a wave of rage that led him to nearly killing the man. It had been a while since he’d felt that way, remembering that kind of instinct to kill occurring mostly while he was in the combat zone or when engaged in a very volatile situation with criminals. Seeing someone go after Diane like that had triggered something dangerous in him, one that had been fueled by the fear of losing her that surpassed all the failsafes training had supposedly instilled in him.

He knew for certain had Diane not gotten through him, Harris would be dead on the street by now. Kurt had been seconds away from snapping his neck and he had not even hesitated or thought twice about deciding to do so until she’d broken through the haze. Knowing he had been so easily thrown into the deep end should alarm him and make him reevaluate things, but holding her after nearly losing her pushed back whatever seeds of regret that could have taken root. She was alive and she was safe and he knew he would do everything he could to make sure things stayed that way.

“Kurt?” just like before, her voice pierced through the haze he was slowly losing himself in. 

“You’re safe,” he rumbled, closing his eyes tightly and slipped his fingers through the golden strands of her hair. Tears burned in the back of his eyes and he tried not to let his anger overflow and instead, embraced the relief that came with being able to hold her in his arms. “God, Diane...”

“I’m okay,” she rubbed his sides gently, running her hands along his ribs and lower back soothingly. “Kurt, I’m okay.”

“He’s not going to touch you ever again,” Kurt whispered harshly. “If he tries to touch you again...I’ll kill him. I swear to god, I will kill him.”

Her arms tightened around him, “Kurt...” there was a tremble in her voice.

“I swear,” he growled, tightening his hold on her and felt his heart clench tightly as he breathed in her scent. “He will _never_ touch you again.”

Taking in a sharp breath, Diane held on to him tightly and buried her face into his neck.

****

**  
o0o  
**

“Are you kidding me with this?”

Kalinda glanced at her orange notebook, “No, I ran the checks three times. That’s where the calls came from.”

Will scowled, smacking his open palm on the piece of paper she had handed him, “And you can prove this?”

“We can but I don’t think you can use it,” she said carefully. “I know how this firm works. They’ll just fire the intern they had working on this and claim they had no idea this was happening.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Will hissed. “They’ve done this kind of shit before?”

“It’s been suspected but no one’s been able to prove anything,” she answered. “And even if they do all they will see is that the firm has a penchant for hiring rogue interns.”

“Their rogue interns are leaking information about their cases,” he gritted out. “We can take them down just for that.”

“But they were careful enough not to release Diane’s name,” she pointed out calmly. “Mandy Post found that out all on her own. They stayed well within the law for that.”

“Yeah, and we’ve got Andrea Stevens in that very same firm building a case for her scumbag client,” Will groused. “That...goddamn it, she’s the one who’s been after Diane this whole time?”

“She was hired as Joe Harris’ lawyer,” she pointed out. “She got him out from lock up.”

“He’s out?” Will asked, incredulous. “How is that even possible?”

“They had to charge him or let him go,” she explained. “The laboratory was backed up and they didn’t meet the deadline so they had to let him out. But the results came in later today and they’re trying to find him again.”

“So they’ve got their evidence?” Will asked.

“Yes, the DNA they found on Diane and her...clothing matched the sample they had of Harris,” she said carefully. “There’s a want out on him at the moment.”

Will shook his head, “Hope he’s stupid enough to stay in town.”

“He hasn’t proven to be very smart up to this point,” Kalinda said with a glint in her eye.

“Stevens is his lawyer?” he asked, disgusted. “She’s a bottom feeder.”

“That’s the general opinion,” she tilted her head to one side. “And she and Diane have always had some sort of rivalry.”

“Andrea has a rivalry with everyone,” he muttered, making a face. “I need to make some calls. If Andrea wants to play dirty then let’s play dirty.”

“What’re you going to do, Will?”

“Beat her at her own game,” he replied darkly. “Find me that intern. If that little shit has been fired, I wanna talk to him here. Bring him to me.”

“And if he hasn’t been fired?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Then we’ll make sure he gets fired,” Will smirked. “I don’t know what Andrea thinks she’s going to accomplish pulling this crap but if she thinks she can poison the well before this case even gets anywhere, she’s got another thing coming.”

Kalinda smiled, “Sounds like things are going to get interesting.”

“Get some pop corn ready,” he grinned, picking up his phone and began to scroll through his contacts. “Send me the—”

He stopped as he was interrupted by the sound of Kalinda’s phone ringing. She gave him a patient look and slid the device from her back pocket, her eyes quickly scanning the text she received. Suddenly with wide eyes, she looked up—a cloud of worry coming across her normally unflappable features.

“What is it?” Will’s eyes furrowed.

“Someone from the precinct just sent me a message,” she began. “They just picked up Joe Harris.”

“Well, that’s good,” he answered. “Right?”

“They picked him up outside Diane’s house,” she bit the inside of her cheek. “They were alerted to his presence when he tried to attack her but—”

Will shot up from his seat, “What?”

“She—” she tried to explain to him the rest but he already had his phone pressed to his ear. She pressed her own phone to her ear to talk to the person who’d sent her the text. “It’s me. What’s going on?”

“Damn it,” he hissed, jabbing his finger into his phone. “She’s not answering. Where is she Kalinda?”

She gave him a look, listening to the other end and held up a hand to hold him off. Will scrambled to get his things together, smacking his laptop closed and rounded his desk with his briefcase and phone in hand. He tried to contact his partner once more only to be sent straight into her voicemail again.

“Will!”

Kalinda caught him just as he was reaching for his coat. He stopped, his eyes fierce and wild but she could also the fear in them. He’d been here before and she could see he was recalling the night he’d found Diane in the parking lot, covered in bruises and hurt beyond measure. She could understand the panic.

“She’s okay,” she said calmly, pressing her phone into her shoulder. “Harris tried to rough her up, but McVeigh was able to subdue him and called for Pacci and Boyle to pick him up.”

“He get his hands on her? What happened?” Will asked, breathing heavily.

She tried not to show her own concern, “He went after her—grabbed her arms but that’s as far as he got. McVeigh was getting something from his truck parked not far from her front door when Harris showed up. Diane fought back...she cut his cheek with her keys and stabbed a heel into his foot. McVeigh did the rest.”

Will stopped, dropping his brief case and moved towards his couch. He plopped himself down, holding his head in his hands and tried to calm his breathing. He groaned, “Fuck, I really hate this.” 

“She fought back,” Kalinda looked quite pleased by that. “She fought him back long enough for McVeigh to intervene and Harris wasn’t able to do more.”

He nodded, looking relieved. His shoulders dropped as he sighed, “That’s good...she’s fine. Good. Thank god.”

“They’ve taken him to lock up,” she continued in a calm and soothing voice. “He’s going to be booked for assault, witness intimidation and resisting arrest. He won’t be able to get to Diane again.”

“But he already got to her, didn’t he?” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. “Shit, Kalinda...what the hell is going on? Who is this guy? Why is he so fixated on Diane?” He shook his head, looking at her wearily, “She’s really okay?”

“She’s okay,” she answered. “McVeigh is staying with her and there’s a friend of hers with them too. A Viola Walsh?”

Will nodded, “She’s Diane’s college friend. And she’s going to be helping us with...this. I don’t know. Diane seems to think she’s going to need her for this.”

“She’s a PR specialist.”

“You know her?”

Kalinda nodded, “Came across her work doing some work on a couple of cases. She’s good.”

“I hope so,” he muttered. “She’s with Diane right now?”

She nodded, “According to my friend. He’s a uniform. They have them sitting across Diane’s house for the night just to provide some...assurance.”

“City covering their asses?” he snorted.

“You bet,” she shrugged lightly. “You should go home. Get some sleep.” She gave him a rare but the kindest of smiles, “Talk to Diane tomorrow. She’s okay.”

Will nodded, “Yeah...yeah, I know. You’re right.” He looked at the screen of his phone, “I’ll check on her tomorrow. Maybe leave a message...I don’t know. Then I’ll sleep.”

She watched him stand, grabbing his briefcase from the ground and rubbed the back of his neck as they made their way out of his office together. The office was nearly empty, save for some first years burning the midnight oil. They didn’t mind them as they made their way to the elevators.

“Hey,” Will asked as they stepped through the doors together and pressed for the floor to the parking garage level they were assigned to. “Did you ever hear from Harris’ sister?”

Kalinda shook her head, “Not yet. There were a few numbers I was able to track down but so far nothing. I left messages in all of them to see if anyone calls back.”

He frowned slightly, watching the numbers light up as they moved through the floors, “Are people usually this hard to find when you’re doing this?”

“Not usually,” she answered. “The ones that are harder to find are usually the ones that _don’t_ want to be found.”

Will looked at her, “So are you saying she doesn’t want to be found?”

“Maybe...or it could be just about too much moving around.”

He raised an eyebrow in her direction, “What does your gut tell you?”

“It’s saying that maybe she might have something to say,” she answered vaguely.

He gave her a challenging look, “Then maybe you should find her.”

Kalinda gave him the barest of smiles, “That’s the plan.”

****

**  
o0o  
**

“Well, I suppose this answers the question of whether you’re still on break or not.”

Diane looked up, brushing her damp hair back from her face as her friend came into her bedroom. She had just finished taking a shower and getting dressed in a white cotton tank top and black satin pajama bottoms. Seated on the bed, she let the corners of her mouth curl up in a poor imitation of a smile.

“I didn’t hear you arrive,” she said quietly.

Viola stood at the threshold and tried not to let her horror show. She had known Diane had been assaulted and had been told of the gory details of what her friend remembered—but she’d had no idea of how much had been hidden under the armor she’d donned to get out in public. There was a healing bruise on her face and it was something she had to steel herself against, unable to stomach the thought that someone had been so violent towards someone she cared deeply about. And then to have Kurt explain to her what had happened only hours ago, what Diane had to go through _again_. It was appalling. 

“You were in the shower,” Viola said calmly, ignoring how her stomach was churning at what she was seeing. “There’s a police car across the street. Kurt told me what happened.”

Diane was curled up against the pillows on her headboard. “You talked to Kurt?”

“I did,” she smiled then made a funny face, wrinkling her nose with amusement. “He’s...he doesn’t speak much, does he?”

“He kind of reminded me of the Marlboro Man when I first met him,” Diane smiled widely. “He’s got that very John Wayne thing about him though, doesn’t he?”

Viola grinned, “He does.” Then her smile faded, “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Diane looked down at the fresh bruises that were wrapped around her forearms. There were visible marks of where Harris’ fingers had latched on to her skin so mercilessly, the lines visible against her pale skin. “They caught him. They have him in custody.”

“That’s good,” the brunette breathed out then slowly came into the bedroom. “Kurt didn’t say much except he was here and he tried to...” she trailed off as she sat down heavily on the bed, “God, Skinny. What’s happening?” 

“I wish I could tell you, Vi,” Diane sighed. “He came out of nowhere and Kurt...god, he almost killed him.”

She frowned, “What are you talking about?” 

Kurt really hadn’t said much except Harris had been lying in wait when they’d arrived and tried to accost Diane but he had intervened. There was nothing about killing or nearly killing in what he shared though she wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t exactly information she imagined one shared readily with people they just met.

“They fought,” she said quietly. “Kurt left something in the truck and I went ahead. Then Harris came out of nowhere and grabbed me. He was screaming all sorts of things...Kurt just threw him off of me and then he started hitting him. He was so angry—I’ve never seen him that way before...” she stopped, frowning slightly. “He held him down and I swear, he was going to break his neck, Viola.”

“It was a reaction,” she shrugged, not at all bothered by what she was hearing. “He saw the bastard’s hands on you and after what he did to you? I’m surprised he didn’t really kill him, Diane.”

“He almost did,” Diane said quietly and she was visibly torn about the whole matter. “And I...a part of me wanted him dead but I couldn’t let Kurt do it. He would lose everything if he...I couldn’t let him kill him.”

“I know, honey,” her friend nodded. “But Kurt seems like a good man. And that Harris bastard violated you...it’s natural for him to feel some aggression towards him.” She frowned, “What’s really bothering you? Are you scared Kurt will hurt you?”

Diane’s eyes widened, “No! Of course not. He wouldn’t lay a hand on me. He isn’t like that at all!”

Viola was confused, “Then what’s bothering you so much?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, “The reason we were apart...there was a case and it rattled him. It was about a dead little girl. We’ve been together a year and I’d never seen a case get under his skin so much.”

“I’ve talked to cops,” Viola supplied carefully. “Nothing gets to even the most hardened cop than cases with children involved. It’s devastating. So what happened?”

“It got to him,” Diane sighed, obviously troubled by the memories. “I was worried and I couldn’t help it...I kept checking on him. At first he was barely tolerating that and then suddenly we were getting into fights about it. He was having nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night with his shirt soaked...”

Viola reached out and gently rubbed a folded knee covered in satin, commiserating without a word. She was well aware how Diane was when she cared about someone. She cared, very deeply and she tended to get overprotective. She could only imagine how horrified Diane must have been to see Kurt going through something so awful. She would have wanted to fix it and would have been relentless about it.

“We fought about everything,” she muttered, shaking her head slightly. “And then one night...everything just blew up. He woke up screaming, scared the hell out of me. So I finally gave up and insisted we needed to talk because the whole thing was driving him crazy.”

Diane knew there were still nights he woke up in a sweat, troubled by memories morphed into dreams and nightmares. She had been pulled from sleep enough times to know how troubled his dreams could get and she provided him comfort when she could. It wasn’t often but she knew there were also nights he would startle awake from a nightmare and not let her know, preferring to slink off and deal with it himself until he was ready to get back in bed with her. She asked him sometimes about them but he never seemed to answer her. He wasn’t the type to share—he liked to listen and hold her. But on those nights, she had hoped he would. There were things he needed to talk about, things that still bothered him but he was always reluctant to share them with her. 

The brunette nodded, “And then you got into a huge fight.”

“We did,” Diane sighed. “I said things and so did he...it was awful. He got so angry—he punched a wall and we both just froze. He looked...horrified. And then suddenly, he was running out of here in the middle of the night. I was too upset to go after him.” She ran a hand through her hair, “He’d never lay a hand on me...doing that in front of me was hard enough for him to face. Going after Harris tonight? It’s like he forgot I was there and he just...wanted to kill him.”

“He’s a soldier, Diane,” Viola pointed out. “He is, in essence, a trained killer...that’s not something that just goes away. You were being threatened and he reacted. It sounds like it was purely instinct.”

“I guess,” her friend nodded. “It scared me though...if he killed Harris he could have lost his badge. He loves his work, Vi. And I’ve done enough damage to the people around me—”

Viola was visibly upset by that, “Diane, stop thinking that way.”

“Will is barely keeping his temper in check and that isn’t like him at all,” she pointed out insistently. “David Lee can’t even stand to be in the same room with me. Julius is left doing both my job and his. I’ve got you wrapped up in this but we both know this case is a ticking time bomb and my firm will take a hit. And tonight I came close to costing Kurt his career. Don’t tell me I am not at fault here.”

“Harris chose to do what he did to you,” Viola said in a stern voice. “He took advantage of you and he preyed on you. Kurt loves you...and he will do whatever he can to protect you. You can’t stop him from doing that, Diane.”

“I know,” she suppressed a groan. “Harris barely touched him, Vi...Kurt didn’t give him the chance. He took him down and he made it look so easy and I couldn’t even...” her voice trailed off. “I don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“You’re still processing,” Viola said, rubbing her knee once more. “What you’re going through...it’s a lot. I know you’re going to be you about this—”

Diane frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you’re going to put all of this on yourself and pressure yourself into being okay because you think you always have to be the adult in the room,” she raised an eyebrow, daring her to contradict her. “I’m just saying...this isn’t something you can just brush off. You’re going to need to let yourself recover from this.”

“I know that,” the blonde muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Viola smiled wanly, “I know it’s a foreign concept for you but you need to learn to let go...the trauma that you went through? You can’t mix that with your...you-ness. At least, not for now.”

Diane rolled her eyes, “Thank you, Viola. This is a really good pep talk.”

“Anytime, dear,” the brunette smiled sarcastically then turned serious, “Kurt wants to protect you...let him. If not for you, then maybe for his peace of mind. That man is riddled with guilt.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “Guilt?”

Viola shrugged, “He feels like he’s failed to protect you...twice,” she explained delicately. “He’s going to feel the need to make up for it. And it might annoy you eventually but you need to remember he means well.”

“I will,” Diane replied tiredly. “Is he okay? I should go down there.”

Viola smiled, “Kurt’s making dinner. You should eat. Are you arms alright? Do they hurt?” She glanced at her watch, “I can run to a pharmacy and get—”

“They’re tender,” Diane confessed. “But they’re alright. Thank you, Viola.”

“No problem,” she smiled kindly. “I’m going to go change. We can go down together, if you want?”

Diane smiled, “I’ll go ahead...I’ve left Kurt alone long enough, I think.”

****

**  
o0o  
**

Damian Boyle barged into the interrogation room, storming past Miranda and Andrea Stevens who were going punch for punch on her client’s rights just outside of it. A cry of annoyance came from the lawyer but that didn’t deter him, nearly slamming the door in her face as he moved into the room. He kicked out his usual chair and smacked the folder he was holding down on the metal table that was bolted to the ground.

“What the fuck is going on?” Harris growled, sitting up and dropping a sweating ice pack on the table. His nose was an angry shade of red, swollen and broken. 

Harris had been attended to by some paramedics but apart from the nose, nothing else could be done about the bruising he had incurred during the fight and he had come out of losing his consciousness fairly alright which meant he didn’t need to be admitted to the hospital which gave the detectives all the more reason to bring him in immediately for questioning.

“I have been sitting here for hours!” he yelled at the detectives and his lawyer.

“We will get you out of here, Joseph, don’t—”

“Shut up!” Damian growled though he didn’t specify if he was talking to the criminal, the lawyer or both of them. “Sit the fuck down and stay down, you little—”

“Detective Boyle!” Andrea Stevens barked.

He sneered at her, opening the folder violently and spread out the results in front of Harris and jabbed a finger at them, “Semen, blood, skin samples, saliva and your fucking prints found inside the car of Diane Lockhart, her clothes and in the rape kit that was administered by the hospital.” He glared at Harris, “You sticking to your story you didn’t rape her?”

Harris looked surprised but his lawyer cut in, “Detective Boyle, your treatment of my client—”

“My treatment of your client doesn’t even come close to what treatment your client deserves,” Damian snarled at the woman, shooting her a murderous look then turned to his suspect again. 

“All of that stuff just says we had sex,” Harris said calmly then gave Damian a grin. 

“You had sex,” Damian repeated then pulled out a set of photographs. “She gave full consent?”

“Oh, yeah,” he leered. “Full consent. And then some.”

The detective slammed a few photographs on the table, “She consent to this?” he pointed to a photo of the nasty facial bruising. “Or this,” he pointed to the one with the deep scratches on her thighs. “Or this,” he slapped a hand over the photos of the bite marks that had been found on her different parts of her torso. “She consent to all of this?”

Harris barely blinked, “She liked it rough.”

Damian glared at him, “She liked it rough?”

Andrea sat forward, holding a hand across her clients front, “Don’t say anything, Joseph. They want you to admit to something you didn’t do.”

He ignored his lawyer with a smug grin. “Yeah,” he clasped his hands together and shrugged, “Not my fault she wants to call it rape now because she’s got shit to explain to her boyfriend.”

“You mean the boyfriend that just fucked you up?” Damian smirked. “How’s that nose coming, bud?”

“And just a head’s up, we will be filing a complaint about that,” Andrea cut it only to be waved off by her own client.

Harris snarled, “Lucky hit.”

“Really? And here I thought you were just stupid,” Damian chuckled lightly.

Harris sneered, “Shut up.”

“You raped his girlfriend, Joe,” Damian said calmly, “And you went after her at her own house.”

“Just to talk,” he shrugged, feigning disinterest. “That cop boyfriend went ballistic.”

Damian ignored the comment on his colleague, “Talk? About what?”

“Just wanted to know why she was making shit up about me,” he replied boredly. “We fucked. So what? She wanted it and I was there. But now she’s got some shit she needs to own up to.” He scowled, “Not my fault she couldn’t keep her fucking legs together.”

Damian raised his eyebrows, “So, you’re the victim, huh?”

Harris nodded solemnly, “Yeah. I’ll admit it, I wanted to fuck. And she was down for it. Nothing wrong with that.”

Andrea shot her client a withering look, “Joseph, stop talking—”

“You raped her and you went after her and assaulted her and a cop—”

“I barely touched her and he hit me!” Harris snapped, pointing to his neck. “He tried to kill me!”

“Detective Boyle, we are done—” but the lawyer was interrupted once more but this time by Miranda Paccininni who up until then had been standing by the door quietly.

“Was it just a two days ago you were talking about not knowing her at all? Or even being in her car?” she said calmly, instantly quieting the room as all three sets of eyes turned to her. “Now you’re changing your story saying you had consensual sex with her...in her car?”

Harris fumbled, surprised that he wasn’t being attacked as he had come to expect. “I didn’t—I said I didn’t—” he started, “She was saying I raped her! What the fuck was I supposed to do? What—she--goddamn it!” he babbled, his eyes scanning the room wildly and tried to stand only for his cuffed wrists latched on the table. “I am not saying anything else!” he turned his panicked eyes on his lawyer, “Do something!”

“Take him to lock up,” Damian snapped, snatching the files and photos away and put them back in the folder. He stood up, standing over Harris with a hateful look on his face, “We’ve got you, you piece of crap.”

“Hey! You can’t do this to me!” Harris railed, “You can’t talk to me that way!”

Miranda calmly stepped forward and gave him a calm look as Damian stormed past her, leaving her with Harris as Andrea Stevens chased after him, squawking about her client’s rights and their alleged abuse of power which meant her client would be out in hours. Damian ignored her and simply walked away. He knew they had the upper hand but they weren’t close to being done. They still had so much left to do and he didn’t have time to listen to the lawyer bitch.

They were going to make sure they nailed Joe Harris to the wall.

****

**  
o0o  
**

Diane smiled tiredly and waved her friend off, seeing her off warmly as she watched her go up the stairs to the second floor of her home where the bedrooms were. Viola had no problem setting herself up in the guestroom and she’d begged off lingering after insisting she finish with cleaning up after dinner since Kurt had cooked quite the meal for all of them.

She tried not to let it bother her but both her lover and her friend had worked in tandem quite well that night, keeping her occupied enough not to think about what happened and the rest of the events from the last few days. They’d done well, amusing her with stories and getting her to join in with stories of her own with Viola from college. It had created quite the flow between the three of them, Viola enjoying her own revelations about her friend as she shared it with her lover and Kurt sharing a thing or two from their own time together.

The laughter had flowed and alcohol had been noticeably missing from the dinner table but Diane didn’t mind it. Instead, she let them do as they pleased, knowing it would make them feel better about the whole ordeal. And while she enjoyed the time with her friend, Diane was feeling more and more like she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what it was—if it was the spiraling nightmare that had become her life, the pending media frenzy or the fact that she was still struggling with coming to grips with what happened and she was about to be thrust into the murky waters of a trial before she understood her emotions and actions. 

It might be that she hadn’t slept well in days or that her head was killing her.

Diane didn’t go back to the kitchen where they’d left Kurt to close up and make sure the house was secure for the night. She contemplated going to bed and leaving him to decide where he would like to sleep considering the guestroom had officially been occupied. She knew there was no way he would go back to his place to sleep now—it wouldn’t even matter that Viola was staying with her. He would stay simply because he wouldn’t be able to stand being anywhere else.

But she made it as far as the third step on the stairs before she sat down, exhausted and overwhelmed, weighed down by the maelstrom that was going to hit, feeling a wave of dread threatening to drown her. She felt violated and confused and just tired—she still didn’t remember anything from the attack but what had happened outside her house that night would certainly stay with her. 

She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, hearing her own blood pumping through her ears and tried to calm her erratic heartbeat. She was feeling a sort of darkness closing in on her and it was a terrible feeling, one that she was hoping would simply go away.

Kurt came out of the kitchen, searching for her once a good ten minutes had passed. He sat down next to her on the stairs without a word and gently nudged her with his shoulder before slipping his arm around her lower back. He squeezed her side gently and pressed his mouth against her temple.

“You need to go to sleep, Diane,” he said quietly. “Come on, let’s go to bed,” he coaxed but she didn’t move.

She shook her head back and forth, closing her eyes. She bit on her bottom lip hard enough to make it sting and it backfired—she had wanted to hold back tears but the sharp sudden pain forced them out from under her eyelashes.

“I feel sick,” she said hoarsely, her clenched fists shaking in her lap. “Kurt,” she moaned, rising in pitch as she turned and curled up, burying her head in his lap.

Kurt breathed in, placing his head on the back of her neck, his jaw clenching tensely. He brushed her hair back, letting his fingers run through the golden locks and his warm hand moved in gentle soothing motions.

“We can stay here until it passes,” he offered quietly. “We don’t have to go anywhere. Do you think you’re going to throw up? Or is this something else?”

“Just...a sick feeling,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she turned her head to rest her cheek on his lap and closed her eyes. “But I know I want you here with me.”

He curled his hands into her hair, his fingertips brushing along her scalp. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, breathing in deeply.

“Did I scare you today?” he asked, his hand stilling its movements.

“No,” she answered without missing a beat. “You didn’t scare me.”

“There’s things about me I haven’t shared with you,” he muttered.

“Something to do with what happened tonight?” she asked quietly.

He nodded, “Yes. There are things about me I _never_ wanted to share with you.”

“Why?” the question seemed simple enough but it was enough to make him stop and tense up.

“I started a new life when I got back home,” Kurt replied after a moment. “We did things, Diane, out there in the desert...things I know you would disagree with but we ran missions. We went where we were told to go. It’s what we do.”

“You were soldiers,” she nodded slightly against him. “You were serving your country. I would understand.”

“Maybe,” he muttered. “But I didn’t want to risk losing you because of the things I did. Why I had to end up with one of the most liberal women in Chicago, I’ll never know...”

“I asked the same about ending up with a card-carrying member of the NRA,” he could hear the smile in her voice. “Will you tell me? Someday?”

Kurt looked down on her, one corner of his mouth curling up with the slightest of hesitation, “Someday.”

She let out a low hum, moving her head slightly.

He looked at her with his brow furrowed in concern, “Do you still feel sick?”

“A little,” she sighed. “But I’m tired...I feel tired all the time.”

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss into her hair. “You just need to rest.”

Diane nodded and allowed him to take her hand and lead her up to her bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. It is proving to be a challenge writing with one hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and opinions will be greatly appreciated. Flaming, not so much.


End file.
